When In Doubt, Obliviate
by Sarah1281
Summary: When a chance meeting reveals Harry's planned fate to Lockhart, he knows what he has to do: rescue him and raise him as his own to properly manage his celebrity status. Harry gets a magical upbringing, Lockhart gets the Boy-Who-Lived...everybody wins!
1. The Rescue

When In Doubt, Obliviate

Chapter One: The Rescue

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

It was mere luck that put Gilderoy Lockhart in the path of Sirius Black November 1st, 1981. It was hardly surprising, really, as luck, good looks, a complete and utter lack of regard for trifles like 'truth' and 'integrity', and memory charms were really the secret to all of Gilderoy's not inconsiderable success. Though Gilderoy would rarely even admit as much to himself, he was hardly what one would call talented in the magical arts. Still, he had been a Ravenclaw for a reason and so it wasn't as if anyone had to know that. Far from being seen as the barely competent Muggleborn he had gone to Hogwarts as, people looked at him and saw a heroic and legendary celebrity with a killer smile and a mysterious past. Well, of _course_ his past was mysterious. Expecting any Pureblood or even most halfbloods to know anything about Muggles was like expecting them to believe any of the nonsense printed in the Quibbler.

Gilderoy had only been taking a leisurely stroll as he pondered the autobiography he was writing – tentatively titled _Magical Me_ – when he had literally run right into a deranged-looking Black. Gilderoy recognized him, of course, as the disgraced heir to the most ancient and noble house of Black since he always made it a point to know who was who in the wizarding world.

Normally, Gilderoy wouldn't have wanted to get involved with someone else's personal problems but he had finally tuned his instincts over the years and he could almost sense the important story Black had to tell.

"Oh, Black, you startled me!" Gilderoy exclaimed. "Is everything alright?"

For a moment Black looked like he was going to ignore the inquiry and continue on his way but something stopped him and he turned to face Gilderoy. "_Nothing_ is alright. Voldemort may be gone but-"

At this, Gilderoy started. You-Know-Who was gone? That was news to him. Most welcome news, though, as it was difficult to build a reputation as a fearsome champion of the light when one's own country was under regular attack by all manner of dark creatures and cultish pureblooded 'Death Eaters.' Gilderoy had never thought he would be grateful to be beneath someone's notice until You-Know-Who had deigned to let him live. "When did this happen?"

"Last night," Black informed him. "James and Lily are dead. Harry's still alive, though."

Gilderoy could only presume that this 'James' was James Potter, Black's close friend. Lily was his wife so that must make Harry that child of his. Looks like it was a son, then. Probably. 'Harry' could be short for Harriet or something. "How did Harry survive?"

"No one knows," Black replied. "He's not old enough to talk, his parents are dead, and it looks like Voldemort was there alone. People are already starting to say that Harry must have done something to defeat him, never mind he's only an infant." Black shook his head in disgust at the stupidity of the general populace. "But never mind that, I have to go find-"

"Wait," Gilderoy interrupted. "Do you have any idea where Harry is now? It…It might not be safe for him. You-Know-Who must have a lot of very angry followers right now and poor Harry is just a baby, how could he defend himself?"

Black waved his concern off. "He's fine. I waited with him until Hagrid showed up and he said he was taking Harry to Lily's muggle relatives, the Dursleys. Anyway, Dumbledore will be there. It'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

That was as far as he got before Gilderoy quietly cast Obliviate on him. He had a plan, you see. Dumbledore was probably leaving Harry with Muggles so that witches and wizards couldn't find him and try to kill him. Obviously, the boy would have to be hidden until he was old enough to attend Hogwarts but why should he have to live his life in obscurity? They could help each other out. Young Harry would get to grow up in the magical world and Gilderoy…well, Gilderoy would get an unbreakable tie with the child that had 'defeated' You-Know-Who. Gilderoy very much doubted that Harry had had anything to do with it (presumably his parents had done something) but who was he to deprive the public of their hero?

Lily's family being Muggles meant that Gilderoy could find their address in the phone book. It might have taken less time had he managed to narrow down the general area the Dursley's lived in – if Black even knew – but it would have been too risky and he wanted to avoid raising Black's suspicions so he could Obliviate him in peace. Since he was planning on rescuing Harry form a good decade of being deprived of the world of his birth, it would be for the best that no one knew that he knew where Harry was and so he could not be implicated.

Now, Gilderoy was tempted to just leave Black where he was but if he did that then someone, maybe even Black himself when he woke up, might realize that he'd been attacked and while Gilderoy didn't think it could be traced to him he didn't want to take any chances. If Gilderoy took Black to St. Mungo's then no one would suspect that he had anything to do with putting him there and he might even be able to boost his reputation. Besides, Black had unknowingly just did Gilderoy a huge favor and so he was feeling rather charitable. That was a dangerous thing, to be sure, but he had no doubt that it would pass soon enough.

* * *

St. Mungo's was more than aware of You-Know-Who's defeat if the pandemonium in the entrance hall was any indication. Gilderoy was eventually directed to the Fourth Floor for Spell Damage and met with a harried-looking blonde whose nametag identified her as Julia Bloxam.

"We've had quite the influx of spell-damaged patients in the last few hours," Bloxam explained. "All these celebrations, you understand. People are getting carried away. They're not really paying much heed to the statute of secrecy, either, but that's not exactly my specialty and I've got more than enough to do already."

"That's quite understandable," Gilderoy remarked. "I do so admire your ability to keep your head during all of this chaos."

"I've helped out at Hogwarts in the weeks leading up to exams," Bloxam said by way of explanation. "So what seems to be the problem? You're not the one with spell damage, are you? You brought someone in?"

Gilderoy nodded. "Yes. I was going out for a walk when I happened to find this man lying unconscious on the ground. Though I don't really know him personally, I recognized him as Sirius Black and so brought him here. I'm no healer, but I didn't see anything physically wrong with him and so I thought it might be spell damage."

Bloxam waved her wand over Sirius and nodded. "Good instinct. This man has had a memory charm placed on him. We'll know more when he wakes up. It's good that you brought him in. We don't know how much he's lost but the thought of him wandering around all alone out there with no idea who he is…"

Gilderoy flashed her a toothy smile. "Always happy to help."

Taking Black to St. Mungo's had been a risk, of course. He knew that there were ways to counteract memory charms and recover lost memories but also that some of the stronger memory charms couldn't be broken without permanently damaging the patient's mind. Gilderoy had had plenty of opportunities since graduating Hogwarts to refine his technique and his charms were just barely below the level where the person he cast them on would be forever forgetful. Sure, St. Mungo's _could_ break his memory charm and see what had happened but not without destroying Black's mind and so he rather felt that he would get away with this.

Professional ethics…he really did pity those that were burdened with them.

* * *

Gilderoy's luck continued to hold as the very first phone book he looked through was the one for Surrey. There was one Dursley family listed at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging. Of course, it had been entirely possible that this Dursley family were just relatives of Lily's family or completely unrelated. Once Gilderoy Apparated to the neighborhood, however, all doubt was removed for there on the porch of 4 Privet Drive was a small bundle.

Gilderoy looked around to see if anyone was there to see him but he appeared to be alone. He made his way to the bundle and discovered that it was a sleeping baby with a lightning-bolt shaped scar. It was a pity, really, as scars tended to mar one's looks and Gilderoy wasn't sure how the boy's parents could be so irresponsible as to let him get injured and then not even take him to a healer to get rid of any scarring. Oh, well. Maybe they could claim that it was a result from his 'epic showdown' with You-Know-Who? While it would need to be hidden for the next ten years, it would eventually serve as an easy identifier.

There was a note with the baby and though it was addressed to a 'Petunia Evans', Gilderoy felt no compunction about ripping open the note and scanning it.

Well, what did you know? Apparently young Harry had survived a killing curse. _Nobody_ survived a killing curse. That was certainly impressive…if it were true. As Black had pointed out, there weren't any witnesses. Public opinion was that the lightning-bolt scar had been the result of surviving the killing curse that was famed for not leaving a mark on the body, however, and so Harry was now known as the Boy-Who-Lived. Nice title, wizards absolutely _adored_ hyphens. Oh, yes, Harry was even more valuable than he had thought.

Dumbledore seemed to think early fame would be bad for him which was part of why he was trying to place him with Muggles who wouldn't worship him which made absolutely no sense to Gilderoy. Fame could _never_ be a bad thing, especially for something so positive as ridding everyone of the Dark Lord that had been plaguing them for years. Dumbledore may be wise but even he could make mistakes and leaving Harry here with the promise of no contact from any member of the wizarding world until the time came for him to go to Hogwarts was clearly one of them. Even if Gilderoy hadn't been planning on shamelessly taking advantage of Harry's fame, if he had found out about Dumbledore's plans for the boy he would have had to have rescued him out of sheer altruism.

Gilderoy pocketed the note and picked up the child. Petunia Evans or Dursley or whatever her name was might never even realize that she was supposed to have custody of her nephew and, with any luck, Dumbledore would never realize that she didn't. And if he did, well, Gilderoy intended to be long gone by then.

It would appear that his time in Britain was coming to a close, at least for the next few years.

* * *

Switzerland was famed for its neutrality in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds and so that was Gilderoy's first destination in case his rescue was noticed prematurely. Before he left he was summoned back to St. Mungo's and he didn't dare ignore it lest someone think he was acting rudely or suspiciously or, worse, someone realized what he had done to Black and could connect him to Harry's disappearance from Little Whinging. He didn't take Harry with him, of course, as that was just _asking_ to be caught no matter how well he disguised the child.

His agent may not have been at all pleased to have to watch over the heavily-glamoured Harry (his talent with glamours was not something he usually mentioned because it wouldn't do for people to think he was accentuating his natural good looks with glamour even if he always did) but she would do it. Better still, she would do it without asking any questions.

Julia Bloxam met with him again as well as – to his surprise and horror – Albus Dumbledore himself. It had been a difficult decision but Gilderoy never met Dumbledore's gaze. On the one hand, not looking someone in the eye made it look like he had something to hide. On the other, he refused to believe that someone as celebrated and powerful as the Great Albus Dumbledore was not a skilled legilimens and Gilderoy had far too much to hide and not nearly enough faith in his skills as an occlumens to take any chances. It was far better to _look_ guilty than to prove yourself it.

"You really are a hero, you know," Bloxam greeted him earnestly.

Gilderoy made sure his surprise did not show on his face. That…hadn't exactly been the reaction he had been expecting. "I did what anyone would have done under the circumstances." Well, anyone with an ounce of sense and a healthy instinct for self-preservation, at least.

"You sell yourself short," Dumbledore said gravely. "You have prevented a great miscarriage of justice and for that you are to be commended."

"I…don't understand," Gilderoy confessed. There were few phrases that he abhorred more but it wasn't like he had any way of knowing what miscarriage of justice he had prevented by attacking Black and so it seemed appropriate.

"Not much of Sirius Black's memory seems to have been erased," Bloxam explained. "No more than a few minutes. We can't recover those memories without seriously risking permanent damage so unless they come back on their own, we may never know. Just the same, if you hadn't brought him in then when he woke up he would have continued doing what he had been doing before his attack."

"And that was?" Gilderoy prompted.

"Lily and James Potter were in hiding," Dumbledore informed them. "They had the Fidelius Charm cast upon them which means that unless their chosen Secret Keeper revealed their location, Voldemort could never find them."

"And since he did, their Secret Keeper must have betrayed them," Gilderoy surmised.

Dumbledore nodded seriously. "Indeed. I had been under the belief that Sirius himself was their Secret Keeper but it turns out that that was all a ruse to keep their _real_ Secret Keeper, Peter Pettigrew, safe. Sirius claims that he was the only one besides Peter, James, and Lily who knew of this and so he was going to hunt down Peter and kill him."

Gilderoy could see where this was going. "And if no one else knew that Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper and you yourself thought that it was Black…"

"Sirius would likely have been falsely condemned a Voldemort supporter and Peter would have either died a martyr or completely gotten away with it," Dumbledore confirmed. "You saved a man's life tonight, Gilderoy. I've spoken with the Minister and she intends to award you with an Order of Merlin, Third Class for this."

Gilderoy didn't bother to hide his surprise this time. "An Order of Merlin? I-I don't know what to say."

Bloxam smiled at him. "Say you'll accept it, of course."

"Well, certainly, if the Minister sees fit to bestow it on me," Gilderoy said proudly. So it seemed that he had done Black a favor, as well. This could certainly prove useful.

"It may take a few weeks to organize given the understandable upheaval Voldemort's downfall has caused," Dumbledore cautioned. "Will you be around?"

"I was actually planning on going abroad," Gilderoy revealed. "But if you owl me with the details then I can make sure to be back in London for the ceremony."

Dumbledore nodded and shook his hand and then Gilderoy was on his way. He was face-to-face with the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot not long after he had rescued little Harry Potter and cast Obliviate on Sirius Black and Dumbledore had suspected nothing. He quickly made his way back to his agent to collect the child and then took an international Portkey to his new home in Switzerland.

It looked like he was really going to get away with it.

Review Please!


	2. Perfectly Safe

Chapter Two: Perfectly Safe

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: Because some people have expressed concerns, I should probably mention that Harry won't become _exactly_ like Lockhart but he is being raised by him, so...

Petunia Dursley woke up with a horrible feeling of _wrongness_. Despite her best efforts, she had been exposed to quite a bit of wrongness in her twenty-three years and she still had her finely-tuned instincts even if she had had no contact with _those people_ since she married Vernon. On the one hand, those instincts were a curse because they meant that she still wasn't quite so normal as she would have liked to be. On the other, at least she wouldn't be taken by surprise.

Though it was still early, Petunia could hardly be expected to go back to sleep after such a horrible fear had settled over her. It wasn't even her fault, either. _Those people _had evidently decided not to bother concealing their presence yesterday and even Vernon had asked her about Lily so of course she was subconsciously thinking about them. Petunia didn't know who Lily was trying to fool, naming her little freak such a perfectly normal name.

Vernon was still asleep and he always worked so hard that she couldn't bear to wake him. No, she'd just go down to the kitchen and get breakfast started. Petunia made her way downstairs and collected the milk bottles to leave out for the milkman. Opening the front door, her heart was in her throat and she couldn't shake the feeling that something _very bad_ was about to happen.

Petunia glanced down. Nothing was there. No unnaturalness or even perfectly mundane object. Her front porch was completely bare. She wasn't sure why she felt the strange urge to search the immediate area very carefully but she dismissed it as an abnormal urge and thus promptly ignored it.

There was nothing there and certainly nothing _unnatural_. Maybe her instincts were losing their precision, after all.

With that encouraging thought, Petunia went back to her stove.

* * *

"It's because I'm a werewolf, isn't it?" Remus demanded.

"No, not at all!" Sirius protested, aghast. Remus had been relieved to see that he was okay and that not everything had been destroyed that night for all of five minutes after he got to Sirius' room at St. Mungo's before the 'Why didn't _I_ know about the switch?' argument had started. Healer Bloxam might have claimed that he was still there so they could be absolutely sure that he didn't have any brain damage from that memory charm but Sirius knew that they were just worried that he'd go after Wormtail again. Admittedly, they had a point but that didn't mean that he had to be happy about it.

"Really." Remus didn't look at all convinced.

"Look, we just didn't want anybody to know that didn't absolutely have to," Sirius defended himself. "Literally the _only_ people who knew were the ones who had to. James and Lily were under the Fidelius, Pet-_Wormtail_ was the Secret Keeper, and I was the decoy. We didn't even tell Dumbledore!"

"And in hindsight that was not the best idea," Remus said seriously.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Well, of course it wasn't the best idea! Wormtail was a Death Eater!"

"I actually meant the 'not telling Dumbledore' part," Remus corrected. "You know, if it hadn't been for Lockhart, everyone would have thought that you betrayed Lily and James and then who knows where you'd be?"

"In a courtroom somewhere, probably," Sirius said dismissively. "Though they do keep prisoners in Azkaban until their trial date so I guess he saved me a few weeks of that."

"I am truly overwhelmed by your sense of gratitude," Remus deadpanned.

"If he hadn't have interfered, that rat bastard would be dead by now," Sirius muttered darkly.

Remus stared at him. "He probably saved your life!"

Sirius shrugged noncommittally, clearly losing interest in the subject.

"Why _didn't_ you tell Dumbledore?" Remus asked instead. "Surely you don't think he would have told anyone and he if Voldemort could read his mind then the war would have been lost long ago."

Sirius shrugged again. "James and Lily didn't want to. I was just trying to respect their wishes. It was their safety, after all, and if all had gone as planned it wouldn't have mattered if Dumbledore knew or not."

"I still think that they should have used him as their Secret Keeper," Remus opined. "But I guess if they weren't even going to trust him with the real identity of said Secret Keeper then there's no way they would actually make him theirs. It's all very strange, I've got to say."

"Maybe," Sirius said vaguely. "It's not like we'll ever know."

The two surviving Marauders sat in silence for a moment as the thought of just how many things that James and Lily hadn't told them and now never would, never could hit them.

"You know, it's one thing not to tell the rest of the world but I'm supposed to be your guys' best friend and I was the only one of us not in the know," Remus remarked at length.

Sirius groaned. Was he ever going to let that go? He could easily see this being one of those things that Remus brought up from time to time for the rest of their lives. "Because it would have been too much of a risk!"

"Telling Wormtail was too much of a risk," Remus countered.

"Well, we know that _now_," Sirius conceded. "It's really not fair of you to use h indsight against me."

Remus crossed his arms unrepentantly. "And it wasn't fair of you to not tell me. If you really didn't not trust me, then why did you have Wormtail as the real Secret Keeper instead of me? God knows he would have been more comfortable with that."

Okay, so maybe he and James did have a little bit of paranoia about Remus. It wasn't something they were proud of, it may have contributed to James and Lily's deaths, and there was absolutely no way he was admitting to it now. Wormtail had just been far too spineless – Gryffindor or not – for them to really think he could be a spy…which probably had something to do with his success.

"Obviously everyone was supposed to think that the Secret Keeper was me," Sirius said slowly. "But in the event that someone suspected otherwise, the very last person that they would have looked to was Wormtail because he looked like he'd crack at the mere _mention_ of torture so no one would have thought that we would have gone with him. You were a much more likely candidate."

"Even though I'm a werewolf?" Remus pressed.

Sirius started banging his head against a wall.

"Oh, that will convince them that you don't have any brain damage…"

* * *

Peter Pettigrew had always been a rather nervous man and the last few months had been him a paranoid one but the last few days were almost more than he could take.

James and Lily were dead. He had long-since resigned himself to that (the minute he failed to convince them not to make him their Secret Keeper, in fact) and so that really wasn't what was bothering him. No, the Dark Lord had apparently been destroyed and little Harry Potter was the boy who wasn't aware he was a hero. Sooner or later, the Death Eaters would remember that the Dark Lord had only acted on his information and come after him. Most of the people on Dumbledore's side had no idea that they wanted to kill him but Sirius Black did. Fortunately, anyone who knew about the Fidelius thought that Sirius was the one who must have betrayed James and Lily. Still, he hadn't heard anything about an arrest yet and until he did he couldn't shake the feeling that Sirius was going to rip his head off.

There was only one thing to do…well, actually, he had had two ideas. Pretending to be a rat and finding some wizarding family to live with was only his backup plan, though, because it sounded really demeaning and kind of boring. No, what he actually intended to do was flee the country. Maybe he could get some surgery while he was at it to make sure he didn't actually look like himself if anyone went looking. The idea of some muggle doctor cutting his face up rather terrified him but not quite so much as Sirius Black (or one of the Death Eaters, but he was really scared of Sirius) tearing said face _off_.

Pettigrew had worked himself into such a state of panic that it was almost a relief when the first stunner came and his frantic mind was silenced.

* * *

When Albus Dumbledore walked into Sirius' hospital room, he discovered that the medical prisoner was valiantly attempting to pretend that he cared about the game of wizarding chess he was playing with Remus. Good, the fact that both of them were here would make this much easier.

"Sirius, I've spoken with Healer Bloxam and she said that your tests results look great and that you should be ready to leave come morning," Dumbledore said by way of greeting.

"They caught Wormtail then?" Sirius asked innocently.

Dumbledore did his best to look innocent. "Why, yes, coincidentally the Aurors did catch up with Peter just a few hours ago. His trial will be sometime next week and Sirius especially will be called upon as a witness since he was the only one who knew about the switch."

"What's he being charged with?" Remus wondered. "I mean, I firmly believe that he deserves to go to Azkaban but surely it's not actually a crime for a Secret Keeper to tell someone the secret."

"He is going to be charged for treason in supporting Voldemort like all Death Eaters and accessory to murder as he knew that Voldemort intended to kill Lily, James, and Harry," Dumbledore replied.

"Why don't they just make it illegal to be a Death Eater and get it over with?" Sirius demanded.

"That would certainly simplify matters," Dumbledore admitted. "But already people are coming forward claiming they became a Death Eater under the Imperius and it has long-since been a policy to not hold people accountable for their actions while under Imperius. There have also been arguments made that people were forced to become Death Eaters which will be taken into account at their trials and that being a Death Eater ultimately just means one given the Dark Mark by Voldemort. While the presence of said Mark is certainly an indication that there may be crimes committed in the name of Voldemort, it is not absolute proof of wrongdoing."

Sirius made a face. "I think I'm getting a headache already."

"Yes, well, welcome to the legal system," Dumbledore said, sighing. "I suppose that a little inconvenience is worth it to prevent any miscarriages of justice."

"If you say so…" Sirius said dubiously.

"When can we see Harry?" Remus asked anxiously.

Dumbledore sighed again. "I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you."

"Is something wrong with Harry?" Sirius exclaimed. "Is he alright? What happened?"

"No, nothing like that," Dumbledore was quick to reassure them. "In fact, I put a charm on young Harry that would let me know if he's ever in mortal peril or with someone who means him harm."

Remus was still suspicious. "Then why did you tell us that there was bad news when I asked when we could see him?"

"Because I'm afraid that you can't see him," Dumbledore replied gravely.

Sirius' left eye began to twitch. "So Harry's godfather and another one of his parents' best friends can't see him?"

"No one can," Dumbledore said apologetically. "Part of it is for Harry's safety, of course, since there will be people out to kill him. Just because Voldemort is gone doesn't mean that his followers will disappear overnight."

"Remus and I know how to be discrete!" Sirius snapped. "We'd hardly advertise where Harry is staying!"

"I'm not saying that you would," Dumbledore said soothingly. "But we can't afford to risk it. Not to mention that, unless I'm much mistaken, you two have met Lily's sister before."

Remus nodded uncomfortably. "She…didn't like us."

"She doesn't like magic," Dumbledore agreed. "It is already asking a great deal of her to raise her estranged sister's orphaned wizard son with no notice because otherwise he may very well die but expecting her to put up with other witches or wizards would be asking too much. If we push her too far, she may end up rejecting Harry and then he'll be in danger. Is the chance to visit him really worth jeopardizing his life?"

Sirius looked like he was going to argue for a second before his shoulders abruptly slumped and it looked like all the fight had gone out of him. "I guess not. So…what? We're just never going to see Harry again?"

"I wouldn't say 'never'," Dumbledore said gently. "Just not for a few years. Once he's old enough for Hogwarts then I assure you you can see him to your heart's content."

"This really isn't what James and Lily meant when they named me Harry's godfather," Sirius complained.

"They also didn't foresee Harry becoming the single most famous infant in all of the magical world and being at the top of the hit-list of all of Voldemort's supporters, did they?" Remus asked rhetorically.

"Once Harry comes to the magical world, he will have no way to stay ignorant of his fame," Dumbledore added. "And learning of that too soon would turn the boy's head."

Sirius bristled at that. "Not James' and Lily's son, it wouldn't!"

"Who his family was is all well and good, Sirius, but you of all people should know that that is not the sole determining factor in who someone turns out to be," Dumbledore pointed out. "Harry would do well to wait until he's old enough to understand before he learns of his great fame."

Sirius said nothing but stared darkly at Dumbledore.

Getting uncomfortable, Remus eventually spoke up. "So what are you planning on doing once you get out of here?"

"I am going to create emergency Portkeys to every single member of the Order set to take them to St. Mungo's," Sirius declared, an almost feverish look in his eye. "If James and Lily had had one that night then they might not be dead."

"Are we entirely sure that this is healthy?" Remus wondered, looking a little concerned.

"It seems harmless enough and he needs a hobby," Dumbledore opined. "And who knows? It may even do some good."

* * *

Gilderoy smiled down at baby Harry. He had so many glamours on that if Gilderoy didn't know any better, he'd suspect that Harry was actually his own biological son instead of his new adopted one. He had been right (when wasn't he?) about the lack of facial scarring making Harry look far better but in a few years Harry would have to stop hiding it because how else would people recognize him on sight? He just didn't naturally look all that remarkable without it.

Gilderoy had had to spend a few hours thinking it over, but eventually came to the conclusion that it was best to keep calling the child 'Harry.' It was a common enough name that it wasn't guaranteed to make people think he rescued little Harry and he wouldn't want Harry to get used to be called, say, Mathew or anything. After all, one day he'd resume his identity as the boy-who-lived and it would hardly do for him to insist on being called by his fake name instead of his real and incredibly famous one.

They had spent a few weeks in Switzerland with Gilderoy only heading back to Britain for a few hours for his Order of Merlin. It was a wonderful photo op and might have actually been the proudest moment of his adult life. For the first time ever, he was getting any award for something that he had actually done and not just something he had the ingenuity for taking credit for. Admittedly, saving Black had been a complete and utter accident but the fact remained that without his actions, Black would probably be dead or in Azkaban or something right now.

Of course, this didn't mean that Gilderoy had any plans to abandon his remarkably lucrative book series. In fact, he had just heard of the rumored defeat of a banshee at some tiny Irish town and so he'd need to hurry up and get there before anyone knew anything concrete…such as the fact that he had nothing to do with it.

He rather liked _Break with a Banshee_ as a title.

Note: So I'm not sure how believable no one noticing Lockhart absconded with baby Harry is but there's hardly any point in Lockhart taking the baby for all of five minutes before being forced to return him to the Dursleys, now is there? And let's face it, if Dumbledore did know that Harry was gone, I highly doubt that Lockhart of all people could fool him. Fortunately, Dumbledore has far more faith in people than he should and Lockhart doesn't intend to hurt Harry.

Like it or not, stories where Harry is raised by someone else or where he gets kicked out by the Dursleys'/runs away require Dumbledore to not obsessively keep track of him.

Review Please!


	3. Taking Your Son To Work

Chapter Three: Taking Your Son To Work

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: I love writing Lockhart. He's such a horrible person and yet he doesn't even realize it and if he ever did he wouldn't even care. For all that people haven't been pleased that Sirius and Remus just accept Dumbledore's orders on Harry...that does seem to be pretty much their attitude in canon. Dumbledore told them to do or not do something and they listened. (Also, it's my birthday! Hooray!)

Gilderoy Lockhart was, in his own opinion, a decent father. There were plenty of little things that he couldn't stand doing (he was never potty-training anyone ever again, for one) but Harry had managed to grow up in one piece and he loved to travel. It was a good thing, too, because it wasn't like Gilderoy had really stayed in one place for longer than a couple of months. Just because he hadn't heard anything about Dumbledore realizing that Harry wasn't really with his muggle relatives didn't mean he was willing to take any chances after all.

Harry had just had his tenth birthday and that meant that it was only going to be another year before they could finally reveal him to the world. Gilderoy had been a bit apprehensive about letting him know who he really was because if Harry started bragging or innocently confided in someone, it could cause a lot of trouble but fortunately Harry seemed to take the threat that if he told anyone then someone might take him away and force him to lead a very dull life in the same place in muggle Britain seriously and so hadn't said a word.

Now he was about to take an even bigger risk but it had to be done. He had been putting it off for as long as he could so that he could see how Harry was with secrets and because it was absolutely essential that Harry didn't even accidentally tell someone but he was running out of time. If Harry didn't learn the truth about Gilderoy before he went to Hogwarts then he might try to emulate the stories and do something stupid and Gryffindor-ish and get himself killed and then where would they be? Gilderoy might be of the opinion that _generally _all press was good press but being known as the kind of guardian who got the wizarding world's hero killed was not really something he aspired to. His life would be _so_ much easier if he could manage secrecy charms.

"Harry, we need to talk," Gilderoy said solemnly across the breakfast table.

Harry looked up from his pancakes. "You said that that was one of those things you never _ever_ wanted to hear, especially from a girl."

Gilderoy nodded. "That is absolutely true. It usually means it is something bad but it always means that it is something serious."

"Is what you have to say bad?" Harry asked curiously.

Gilderoy hesitated. "That…depends, really, on how you look at it. Last night, there I heard of a werewolf that had been defeated in Soviet Armenia."

Harry frowned, puzzled. "That doesn't sound like a bad thing."

"It's not," Gilderoy assured him. "The information about what happened has not yet gotten out." A pause. "The world is going to hear how _I_ defeated him and saved that little village."

Harry blinked. "But…you didn't. You've been with me and we didn't go to Armenia."

"That may be, strictly speaking, true but that doesn't really matter. I am going to tell people that it is true and I am going to write a book on the matter. I'm thinking either _Wanderings with Werewolves_ or _Walks with Werewolves_ for a title. Thoughts?"

"Definitely the first one," Harry said automatically. "Wait…are you telling me that you are going to lie to people and say that you did this when you really didn't?"

Gilderoy nodded. Moment of truth. "I am. What have I always told you about truth?"

"That you should think long and hard about whether telling it will help you and if it doesn't then why in the world would you tell it?" Harry replied.

Another nod. "Exactly. If I tell everyone that some old Armenian witch or warlock killed the werewolf then I wouldn't get another book and I've found that many of these folksy heroes don't even want their own fame. They just want to be left alone and if people found out what they did, they never would be. I'm doing them a favor, really."

As difficult as it was for him to comprehend the idea that someone might not actually want their own fame, he had seen it happen often enough that he accepted that some people were just strange that way. They did their heroic deeds because 'somebody had to' or 'it was the right thing to do' so why should they be punished for their heroism by being forced into becoming heroes when that was the last thing they wanted? Why not let someone who actually wanted that fame take it off their hands? If he ever gave any of the people whose accomplishments he claimed for his own any advance warning of what he was about to do, he liked to imagine that they would thank him for it.

Harry was biting his lower lip and Gilderoy valiantly resisted the urge to remind him that doing so would damage his lip and thus his physical appearance because Harry did have a lot to think over. "Does this mean that you didn't actually do all the stuff in your other books, either?"

"No, I have not," Gilderoy admitted. "It's a system that works for everyone. My memory charms are easily the branch of magic that I am best at and I'm a talented writer as well. The people who actually did these things do not want their fame and I do. Being famous is one of the nicest things in the world, Harry. Everywhere you go, everyone knows who you are. Most of them love you and those that don't are often just jealous. People listen to what you have to say and are just tripping over themselves to give you money just for paying attention to them. Yes, privacy is a little hard to come by but I think the fact that I've managed to conceal the truth about my 'great deeds' and your real identity from them for years means that it's not impossible to retain _some_."

"So how does it work, exactly?" Harry wondered. "You find out about someone being a hero and then, before people find out who, you erase their memory and claim that you did it?"

Gilderoy chuckled at his naiveté. "You make it sound so easy! You're forgetting about Obliviating anyone else who knows what really happened – and sometimes there are quite a few witnesses – and conducting a lengthy interview with the person who did the deed so that I can write up a convincing and compelling account of the event. I have to get all of my facts all at once, you see, because anything I don't think of during that first interview I will have to make up as the person who actually did the deed won't have the answer anymore."

"I see…" Harry said slowly.

"Does that bother you?" Gilderoy asked, hoping that the answer was no. He would really hate to have to Obliviate his own son and then he'd be back to worrying about Harry doing something stupidly heroic and getting himself killed.

Harry was quiet for a moment as he thought it over. "I don't think so," he said finally. "At least not enough to think you should stop. It might not be _fair_ but it doesn't really hurt anybody, does it? And if they really don't want the fame…"

Gilderoy beamed. "That's the spirit! Now, I'm going to take you to Armenia with me so that you can see the process in case you ever need to use it yourself one day and after we get back, I'm going to teach you how to Obliviate people."

He figured that they could practice on animals until Gilderoy was fairly certain that Harry had it down and then eventually they could hire poor locals for Harry to test and refine his charms on…they would have to be Obliviated of the whole affair afterwards, of course, but he didn't think they'd do any permanent damage and the money would be well worth it to them.

* * *

After asking around – and silently Obliviating where required – Gilderoy and Harry found out that the man that they were looking for was Gevorg Hagopian. That was not nearly as fame-worthy of a name as Gilderoy Lockhart so was glad that soon the fame would go to him.

"Thank you for taking the time to sit down with me, Mr. Hagopian," Lockhart greeted, shaking the man's hand. His translation spells weren't anything special but they did get the job done and in his line of work, they were indispensible.

Hagopian was a truly ugly man with robes so patched and frayed (and covered with stains!) that it was clear that he had no fashion sense. Gilderoy always felt like he was doing the world a favor when he stopped someone this ill-suited from gracing the covers of magazines and newspapers. Hagopian had a snaggletooth, hair thick grey hair growing out of his ears, and a very pitiful comb over. His pale blue eyes were watery and unremarkable. His skin was blotchy and scarred – and not even a semi-decent one like Harry's – and his nose was short and crooked.

"It is no problem, Mr. Lockhart," Hagopian returned and Gilderoy had to stop himself from wincing. Dear God, even this man's voice was hideous! If this kept up, he might actually have to start pitying the man. At least he was here to save him. Imagine how embarrassed he'd be if opened up to the world's ridicule… "It is an honor that a big hero such as yourself would want to hear about my little werewolf problem."

"I must confess that I do not have much experience with werewolves," Gilderoy admitted. "It's a rather embarrassing gap in my familiarity with dark creatures but somehow or other I've just never really encountered them when on my travels and so I would love to hear from the expert."

Hagopian reddened making his already unattractive skin even more unappealing. "Oh, I am hardly an expert Mr. Lockhart."

"You are compared to me," Gilderoy pointed out, his words far more honest than Hagopian knew. "So please, tell me all about it. You faced down the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, right?"

Hagopian nodded. "That is correct. I had gone for a walk earlier in the day and fell asleep by a tree near the river. When I woke up, it was dark and so I decided to head back home. That was a real comfy spot to rest when I was younger but now I can't nap there without getting a real crick in my neck. It's just so peaceful there, though, that I keep on doing it."

That was so incredibly stupid that Gilderoy was glad that he wasn't expected to actually given an honest opinion. No matter how peaceful something was, if it kept causing him pain he should stop doing it. "That sounds nice," he lied.

"It is," Hagopian agreed. "On my way home, I ran into Yeva and Vosgi Chilingirian. They were fleeing from the werewolf. They shouted to me that there was a creature chasing them as they ran past me. I didn't the werewolf to hurt anybody and this is a mixed village so some of the villagers are extra vulnerable."

"And so you decided to help," Gilderoy prompted.

"It was the only decent thing to do," Hagopian replied. "I had never faced a werewolf before and from what I've heard if you do not have a Wolfsbane potion then the best thing to do was contain the beast. We were out in the open and I had no plan. Fortunately, right as the creature came barreling towards me I remembered a charm and cast it, stopping the werewolf right in its tracks."

"And what charm was this?" Gilderoy asked, careful not to sound too eager. He couldn't be bothered to take notes himself so he was quite lucky that automatic recording quills had come out a few years back. They were strictly banned at Hogwarts and several other places but for these all-important interviews they were absolutely essential.

"The Homorphus Charm," Hagopian answered. He glanced over at Harry. "That is a charm that forces transformed objects to return to their true form. It can be used to untransfigure something but it's usually used to check for Animagi. As you can imagine, it's a pretty rare charm but my sister's ex-husband was an Animagus and it was a rather messy divorce so the family thought it best if we all knew it."

"And did it work?" Gilderoy pressed. "Did the werewolf resume its human form?"

Hagopian shook his head. "Oh, no. If that could happen then it would practically be a cure for lycanthropy."

"Then what did it do?" Lockhart inquired.

"It caused the werewolf to regain his mind," Hagopian explained. "And then it ran off. I'm not sure what happened to it after that but it certainly didn't bother the good people of this village and I suppose that's good enough for me. I'm hardly an Auror, you know."

So Hagopian had just cast a spell that made it regain its mind and then it ran off? That was so un-compelling. Why was it that so many people were so incapable of telling a decent story? Even if what Hagopian had said was technically true, nobody wanted to hear about that!

Gilderoy began to rewrite the story in his head. Wrestling with a werewolf was very stupid for two reasons: it would make it very easy for the werewolf to bite you and it was far stronger than the average man. Thus, wrestling with it _successfully_ was very important. He decided that he would have narrowly won the match – had to keep it realistic – by slamming its head against the ground and then holding it down. His wand would be at the werewolf's throat and he would summon the very last of his strength to cast the Homorphus Charm. He'd need to emphasize just how difficult and rare that charm was. The best thing about that charm was that if one of his faithful readers tried it against a real werewolf one day (assuming they could actually do it but he _would_ mention the complexity of it) then it would actually be enough to save them and it would be all thanks to him! You couldn't _buy_ that kind of publicity...not that he hadn't tried. Sure, the charm wouldn't work the way he had said it would but they could all just assume that they were doing it incorrectly or weren't putting enough power into the spell.

"So who else knows of your daring escapade?" Gilderoy inquired. That in and of itself might sound suspicious to the paranoid mind so he followed it up with, "I was asking people about you earlier and it took me awhile to find someone who knew anything."

Hagopian shrugged. "I suppose the news will get out sooner or later." He gave Gilderoy the names of the people who he thought might know anything. One of them, in fact, was the person who had told him where to find Hagopian and who he had already used a memory charm on. When he tracked down the other people on Hagopian's list he would need to see if they knew of anyone else who knew what really happened so that he could make sure not to leave anyone who could contradict his story. Then, he would need to be sure to go to the tavern or somewhere else packed with people and brag about his defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. That was a _really_ stupid name for a werewolf but what could you do? If he tried to change it, people might doubt that the werewolf even existed and that much of his book would be true.

Harry spoke up suddenly. "Mr. Hagopian, do you want to be famous for this?"

So it seemed that Harry was still having some doubts. With any luck, Hagopian would confirm that he really didn't want any fame. If not…well, it might be foolhardy to think he could go forever without needing to Obliviate the boy.

Hagopian chuckled. "Oh, no, not me. Once you're famous for something, folks don't ever leave you alone. I drove off the Wagga Wagga Werewolf because I didn't want anybody to get hurt. If those reporters following me around is the price I have to pay for it then I will pay it but don't expect me to do so gladly."

"So you'd be happier if you could have driven the werewolf off and nobody even knew that it was you?" Harry asked intently.

Hagopian nodded. "Oh, if only that were possible…"

That was as good a lead-in as Gilderoy had ever gotten and it was nice to have it confirmed just how much he was doing everyone a favor.

Review Please!


	4. Resolving Pesky Legal Problems

Chapter Four: Resolving Pesky Legal Problems

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry Potter had always thought it was a little odd that he hadn't had a last name. His father was Gilderoy Lockhart so it stood to reason that he should have been Harry Lockhart and yet his father had never introduced him like that. It was always 'I'm Gilderoy Lockhart and this is my son, Harry.' He had known that he was adopted for years, of course, but the secret that he was _the_ Harry Potter was only one that he had learned recently.

Most days, Harry looked a lot like a miniature version of his father but every night before he went to bed Gilderoy removed the glamour so that he had messy dark hair, bright green eyes, and a scar in the shape of a thunderbolt that Gilderoy sometimes still winced at. According to Gilderoy, it was very important that he be comfortable with his real appearance as when he went to Hogwarts he would look like himself all the time. Harry wasn't quite sure why he'd be going to a British school since he hadn't set foot in the country since he left it only a few short hours after his parents died but apparently it was important.

In the meantime, there was very little time left until he would be receiving his Hogwarts letter and so Harry had, for the first time he could remember, been brought back to Britain. He was standing in the middle of a very…boring street. He had muggle clothes, of course, as he often had had to go to places where muggles were sure to be but Gilderoy had insisted for this trip they would need completely different outfits. They had both purchased incredibly _boring_ clothing and they were wearing them now. Clearly, Gilderoy had been here before as their attire seemed to fit in perfectly.

Now, Harry had been a little uncertain when he had been told that legally Gilderoy wasn't supposed to have custody of him. Instead, he had been placed with his mother's muggle sister and her family and while he wasn't exactly thrilled at the thought of living without magic, the fact that technically he had been kidnapped had still bothered him a little. Well…at least it had bothered him until he actually saw the neighborhood in which he was supposed to have spent most of his life. Now he was starting to think that Gilderoy really had done him a favor. Not that Harry would ever have dreamed of mentioning his doubts to his father because it was absolutely impossible to argue with him.

The only reason that they were here now was because they were running out of time before the magical world was reintroduced to Harry. Since Gilderoy had absolutely no intention of _not_ letting everyone know that he raised Harry, actions must be taken to prevent legal trouble. Namely, convincing the closest thing Harry had to a legal guardian to sign custody of Harry over to his father…approximately a month after he had come to live with them. Sure, Dumbledore wouldn't be happy that he wasn't consulted or at least informed of this change but legally it would be fine and Gilderoy would much rather have Dumbledore displeased with him than not get to brag about raising Harry.

His father rang the doorbell and a thin blonde woman with a bony face and a rather long neck opened it and peered at them suspiciously. "Yes?"

"I'm Gilderoy Lockhart. We spoke on the phone," Gilderoy introduced himself.

"Yes, come in quickly before anyone sees you," the woman ordered. What was her name again? Something flowery with a P. Pansy? No, that wasn't it. Petunia. "You look normal enough but I still don't want to take any chances. Now, what is this all about?"

Harry looked around as he followed her to the kitchen table. Everything here was so spotlessly clean it was hard to believe that she wasn't magical. Aside from that, though, Harry honestly thought that this was the dullest house he had ever been in. Imagine trying to _live_ here!

"Am I correct in assuming that you are not fond of magic, Mrs. Dursley?" Gilderoy began.

Petunia's lips pursued, giving her a strange resemblance to a horse. "That would be correct," she bit out.

"Then I am truly sorry to inform you that for nearly ten years now the magical world has been under the impression that you were the guardian of your wizard nephew, Harry Potter," Gilderoy said, sounding truly sorry though Harry knew that he wasn't.

Petunia's eyes widened and her face paled. "W-what? But I don't know anything about…that boy. That's Harry, isn't he?"

Harry nodded politely. "It's nice to meet you."

Petunia ignored him. "I don't want him here."

"I can understand and respect that," Gilderoy agreed easily. "In fact, I've been taking care of him for the last few years. He's starting school soon, however, and so there's a tiny legal matter that we'll have to clear up before Harry and I go on our way and you'll never have to see us again…"

* * *

If Harry hadn't been so desperate to get out of that strange, boring little house and that strange, boring little neighborhood then he might have almost been insulted by how quickly Petunia had signed all those forms. Blood relative or not, the woman was no aunt of his.

It was really a good thing that they had hurried up and dealt with the legalities of his _not_ living with that horrible woman and her undoubtedly horrible family because when they got back to Gilderoy's British home they found a letter waiting for him addressed to that very house. Fortunately, it seemed like the letters were self-addressing or they may have encountered interference from Headmaster Dumbledore before Gilderoy had made it public that he had been adopted. Harry had never actually met this Dumbledore but Gilderoy swore up and down that if there were any chance at all that Dumbledore could get away with sending Harry back to the Dursleys then he would take it and if it came down to it, Harry would simply have to attend a school other than Hogwarts to get out of having anything to do with those people.

"Read it out loud, Harry," Gilderoy urged. "This is the moment I've been waiting for for years!"

"Okay," Harry agreed. He cleared his throat. "Dear Mr. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress."

"Right," Gilderoy nodded. "First thing's first. Write to tell them that you'll be there and then you and I need to hurry down to the Daily Prophet. There's a lovely reporter there who is a big fan of mine and will make sure to make the story as sensational as it deserves to be. Once the story makes the front page, we can go shopping for your school supplies."

* * *

Gilderoy had just waltzed into the Daily Prophet like he owned the place. The staff, far from being offended, either ignored him or smiled and waved. The pair made their way to a private office that had the words 'Rita Skeeter' on the door. A blonde woman conspicuous rhinestone glasses and green leather robes was sitting behind the desk and furiously writing something when they came in.

Upon sensing their presence, she looked up immediately and grinned at them, revealing three golden teeth. On the one hand, Harry knew that having golden teeth was a clear sign of wealth. On the other…well, he had always found it a bit odd to put gold in your mouth even if the other options like porcelain and silver were equally odd. It was just best not to think too much about it, really. "Ah, Gilderoy! I hope you have a good story for me today."

Gilderoy smiled back at her. "Don't I always?"

Rita glanced over Harry's way. "And who is this?"

Gilderoy placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "This is my adopted son."

"Son?" Rita repeated, blinking. "I didn't know you had a son. How recent was the adoption? Why did you do it? Why is this the first we're hearing of this?"

Gilderoy took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Rita. "I think this will give you a nice starting point."

Rita quickly unfolded the paper and scanned it for a moment before abruptly dropping it. "This is...you have…"

"I know," Gilderoy said proudly. "And now at long last it's time for everyone else to know as well."

"You've been the legal guardian of one Harry Potter since shortly after his parents' death and his subsequent disappearance," Rita marveled. "Oh, you were right to come to me with this. Who else could give the story the justice it deserves?"

So she was a sensationalist reporter, huh? Those were dangerous but this one seemed to be on their side. As long as that didn't change, this could be a good thing.

"Why haven't you come forward before now? Why were you the one given young Harry's custody? And who are these Dursleys that gave you the custody in the first place?" Rita fired off.

Gilderoy laughed lightly. "One question at a time, please. Petunia Dursley is the muggle sister of one Lily Evans-Potter which makes her and her son Harry's closest living relatives. Dumbledore, concerned for the boy's safety with all of You-Know-Who's followers about, gave Harry to Petunia."

Rita gasped. "He gave our savior to _muggles_?"

"I'm sure he was doing what he thought was best," Gilderoy remarked. "And you'll make sure to make that my official position. Now, the Dursleys dutifully watched Harry for an entire month but they were well-aware that they were just not qualified to raise the Boy-Who-Lived. Petunia knew enough about the magical world through her sister to try to discretely find a magical home for him and, through pure chance, I heard about this almost right away and I took it upon myself to provide a safe and magical upbringing for Harry. Since Dumbledore was likely right about Harry having enemies, it seemed safest to keep location a secret until he was old enough to attend Hogwarts where Dumbledore himself can watch over him and when he returns on holidays he should be able to defend himself at least a little should anything happen."

"Oh, how very heroic of you," Rita said approvingly. Harry noticed that she was no longer writing by hand but her quill was flying across a piece of paper nonetheless. "So…how should Dumbledore come off? At first I was thinking negligent monster for leaving poor Harry with those dreadful muggles but you said that you want to be on record saying that he was doing what he thought was best."

"By all means portray him as a negligent monster if you think that that's the angle your readers will respond best to," Gilderoy said graciously. "In fact, if you do that then it would paint my defense of the man as commendable loyalty and an insistence on giving him the benefit of the doubt even if he doesn't deserve it. I just don't want to anger Dumbledore since Harry will be going to his school in a few months and while he _may_ not let any problems he has with me affect his treatment of my son, I would prefer not to take any chances."

And, of course, the fact that Dumbledore had no idea that Gilderoy had adopted him but that was something that they weren't going to go around telling people. Albus Dumbledore was going to be the headmaster of his school as well as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. He also had an Order of Merlin, First Class, for Grand Sorcery and discovered the twelve uses for dragons blood. He defeated the last Dark Wizard prior to You-Know-Who and worked with famed alchemist Nicolas Flamel. Harry had never met the man but he certainly found him a little intimidating and really hoped that his father knew what he was doing by acting against the man's wishes.

"And how does young Harry feel about all of this?" Rita asked suddenly, turning to him. "It's one thing to hear from your father about how you're better off with him than with those muggles but what if Dumbledore disagrees? Your words would certainly carry a great deal of weight and would help to preemptively silence any possible backlash."

Harry considered his words carefully. They had practiced this before coming over but Gilderoy thought that memorizing responses would sound too rehearsed and wouldn't help him if Rita asked an unexpected question. "When my parents died, I was too young for anyone to ask me where I wanted to go. I was sent to live with my mother's family and then with my father without really understanding what was going on. It seems clear to me, however, that there were two things that could have happened to me. I could have stayed with my mother's family or been adopted by a witch or wizard."

"And are you happy with where you ended up?" Rita pressed.

"I don't remember living with the Dursleys but I've been back to see them since then," Harry replied. "There isn't anything wrong with them but I just don't think I could have been happy there. Everything was too neat and orderly with no imagination at all."

Rita wrinkled her nose. "Sounds dreadful."

"If my father hadn't adopted me then someone else probably would have. I don't know who that would have been or if I would have been more or less happy with them but…I'm happy _now_ with my father and right now I don't want to live with anyone else," Harry concluded.

"That's good," Rita declared. "Now, what angle should I go with the Dursleys? If they're just horrible people then that means that Harry's related to horrible people and Dumbledore will come under heat for his choice to place Harry with them in the first place but if I go with them being perfectly fine but not equipped to handle a magical child then I'll get complaints from the pro-Muggle factions and all the Muggleborns…decisions, decisions…"

Harry was getting the strangest feeling that these were, in fact, positive outcomes for Rita and she wasn't really trying to avoid a backlash. Sensationalist, indeed.

* * *

Once the interview was over, Gilderoy had wanted to go straight home and save the school supply shopping in Diagon Alley until after the story broke. As it happened, in three day's time he was scheduled to do a book signing at Flourish & Blotts for _Wanderings with Werewolves_ and the combination of the book signing, the first time Harry was out in public, _and_ the revelation that Gilderoy himself was going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts would be an almost unbelievable amount of publicity and they could get people talking about it for longer if it happened all at once.

Harry, however, had insisted that they hit Ryman's and get some of his supplies there.

"Why are we here?" Gilderoy wondered aloud as they examined pens. "They aren't going to sell anything on your list here, Harry. I mean, you might be able to get robes and a cauldron at a Halloween store but they can't be very high quality."

"I'm not here for that," Harry explained. "I'm getting notebooks, loose leaf paper, and pens. Maybe some white-out as well. Oh, and folders."

"Your school supply list asks for quills and parchment," Gilderoy pointed out.

"True," Harry acknowledged. "But come on, Dad, you're a writer. You know it's far easier to use the muggle versions."

Gilderoy frowned. "And you're sure that won't get you into trouble?"

"If it does, it's sure to draw a lot of attention to me," Harry reasoned.

Gilderoy nodded. "Good point. I certainly won't penalize you for it in my class."

"That's something else I wanted to ask you about. Why in the world are you planning on teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts anyway?" Harry inquired. "No one's been able to hold that position for longer than a year since the 1950's."

"To be honest, Harry, I'm not sure I have it in me to be a teacher for longer than a year," Gilderoy told him. "And my contract is only for a year anyway. Surely if I'm not planning on continuing to teach the curse will see no reason to strike me down."

"If you say so…" Harry said dubiously. He would rather that his father didn't risk it but with the term so close to beginning, it was a little late to back out now and Harry also suspected that Gilderoy wanted to be on hand for Harry's first year anyway in case Dumbledore tried to convince him to go live with the muggles.

"So what did you think of Rita?" Gilderoy asked. "She's really something, isn't she?"

"It seemed like the whole point of the article was to make it as sensational as possible," Harry opined.

Gilderoy chuckled. "That is Rita in a nutshell. She's the most popular writer at the Daily Prophet because while her facts may not always be checked, they do sell papers."

"So aren't you worried that she'll say something bad about you?" Harry asked, concerned.

"We've worked together well in the past," Gilderoy explained. "She usually gets an exclusive from me and we're both very eager in making the story as exciting as possible and I have very good lawyers to fight any false news reported about me that I don't approve of…and should any not-so-false news slip in there one day they will do the same. Besides, I'm one of a very select group of people that know that she's an illegal beetle animagus and she knows this. It's best not to cross me or she'll end up in Azkaban."

Harry drew back, shocked. "She is? Really? How did you find out?"

"Never underestimate the use of Obliviate, Veritaserum, and more Obliviate," Gilderoy said cryptically. "Do keep that to yourself, Harry. Blackmail material isn't nearly so valuable if everybody knows about it."

Oh, there was really no doubt of that ever happening.

Review Please!


	5. Dumbledore Gets A Clue

Chapter Five: Dumbledore Gets A Clue

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Dumbledore was carefully examining the piece of toast on his plate to see if the raspberry jam had been evenly spread when McGonagall threw down her copy of the Daily Prophet. "Albus! How could you?"

Dumbledore peered placidly over the top of his half-moon spectacles at her. "I believe that I could better answer that question if I knew what you were talking about. Until you tell me, I'm going to have to go with 'it was for the greater good.'"

"Now you don't even have to know what someone's talking about to assume your actions in the matter were for the greater good?" Snape asked skeptically.

"When one always strives towards attaining the greater good, that's a reasonably safe assumption to make," Dumbledore returned. "Well, Minerva?"

"You told me that we were leaving Harry Potter with those horrible muggle relatives of his!" McGonagall burst out. "I watched them for hours and then have spent the last ten years worrying about what kind of a shoddy childhood they would give him!"

Dumbledore frowned. Surely she wasn't still on about that? "Minerva," he began delicately. "You know that I greatly respect both you and your opinions. Just the same, I made that decision _ten years ago_ and you agreed to drop the matter nearly three years ago."

"I'm not talking about that," McGonagall protested. "I'm talking about the fact that you told me that Harry was being raised by those people when it clearly wasn't true and that I had to find out from that horrible Skeeter woman of all people!"

And he had been having such a lovely breakfast, too. He almost didn't want to ask but if something had gone horribly wrong, like McGonagall was implying, then not only was it his duty to fix it but he might very well be the only one who could. "What, exactly, is Rita Skeeter saying about young Harry? And are we sure that it's true? You know how she is about facts; she seems to think the very idea of checking them is beneath her."

Snape leaned over and eyed the paper in McGonagall's hands. "There appears to be a picture of a miniature James Potter posing with _Gilderoy Lockhart_ of all people."

Dumbledore choked. That…had not been what he had expected to hear, to put it mildly. "Do you mind if I see that?"

Wordlessly, McGonagall tossed the paper to him.

**Boy-Who-Lived Found At Last!**

**By Rita Skeeter**

**One of the greatest mysteries since the downfall of You-Know-Who nearly ten years ago is what became of our tiny savior. Fifteen-month-old Harry Potter was spirited away from the ruins of his once-loving home and, despite enthusiastic efforts, no trace of him has been found…until now. **

**Potter's mother, Lily, was Muggleborn and survived by a muggle sister whom Harry was sent to live with. Being without magic herself, she soon found herself quite incapable of meeting the demands of raising a wizard and within a month had him put up for adoption. Now, any number of truly horrible people could have taken in our savior but fate intervened. **

**We all know Gilderoy Lockhart: author of a series of best-selling books detailing his various adventures, the four-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award, the recipient of two Orders of Merlin Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League. He heroically stepped in and saved Potter from the mercy of the British Child Services.**

The article continued but scanning the next few paragraphs revealed that Rita went on quite a bit about how wonderful and philanthropic Lockhart was as well as what a terrible decision sending Harry to the Dursley's in the first place was.

"She managed to heavily imply that you were senile, trying to enslave us to the muggles, attempting to have Harry raised with nothing in his life so that he'd be your perfect little puppet, _and_ that you were being negligent by just putting Harry on the doorstep all night in November with just a note and then not staying to see that he was taken in safely all without managing to actually say anything that would be considered libel," McGonagall informed him. "In all honestly, I can't say that I disagree with that last one and you know how much I hate to agree with that woman about anything."

Dumbledore nodded at that. He could still remember how enraged McGonagall had been when Rita had genuinely complimented her robes and how she made the reporter pay to replace it since McGonagall had immediately changed and then set her complimented robes on fire.

"Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?" McGonagall demanded.

"I must confess that I'm rather interested to hear the answer to this as well, Headmaster," Snape spoke up. "Why on Earth would you consider it a good move to send the obscenely famous child of an attention-seeking prat to the magical world's single biggest attention-seeking prat in living memory?"

"That's right!" McGonagall realized. "You specifically said that you were sending him to the muggles so that he could _avoid_ having that happen to him."

They both stared expectantly at him.

For once, Dumbledore was at a loss for words. According to the article, Petunia had only had Harry for a single month before Lockhart took custody of him for almost ten years now. He would be the first to admit that he wasn't perfect – though good luck finding anyone other than Aberforth who believed that – but this was perhaps the single biggest oversight he'd ever been involved in.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted at last. "Neither Petunia nor Lockhart informed me of the change in Harry's living arrangements."

"I really don't want to say 'I told you so', Albus, but what's to stop his enemies from coming after him there? If Lockhart could find him, I'm sure someone else who wanted more than just Harry's fame could have as well!" McGonagall exclaimed.

"Oh, no, if anyone tried to harm Harry at all then I'd be alerted," Dumbledore assured her. "I put charms on him."

"But not a tracking charm?" Snape queried.

"I…had assumed that if he weren't in danger then I didn't need to know precisely where he was and it wasn't like I expected him to spend every night under the roof of 4 Privet Drive," Dumbledore protested.

"Albus, if those people could so easily give Harry away and you were none the wiser then clearly you weren't watching him well enough," McGonagall said sternly.

"My dear Minerva, please try to remember that I'm a major voice in several different governmental bodies and I run a school in my spare time. It's not like I didn't have things to do besides stalk Harry Potter while he was supposed to be growing up with his Aunt. Really, if I had the time for that then _I_ might have adopted him…"

* * *

While he knew that it was impolite not to announce his visit ahead of time, he didn't want Lockhart to have a chance to take Harry and run or prepare himself for this confrontation. The window was open and so the conversation floated outside for Dumbledore to hear.

"What's a nine-letter word for lie?" a child – presumably Harry – asked innocently.

"Now Harry, you know that I don't know anything about lies," Lockhart rebuked lightly.

"But 'falsehood' doesn't start with an 'm'," Harry complained.

"I believe the word you're looking for is 'mendacity'," Dumbledore said helpfully.

"Hey, that does fit!" Harry cheered.

"Harry, go see who's at the door," Lockhart instructed.

Dumbledore waited a few moments until he heard a lock opening and then the door swung out to reveal the boy the newspaper had identified as Harry Potter. It wasn't like he wouldn't have been able to tell anyway, though, with the strong resemblance he bore to Lily and – especially – James Potter. "You look just like your father except you have your mother's eyes."

Harry's expression turned tolerantly amused. "So I've heard, or at least the bit about my Dad…or wait, you mean my biological father, don't you? James Potter?"

"I do," Dumbledore confirmed. "I must confess that I don't feel you to bear a great resemblance to Gilderoy Lockhart, if indeed you are talking about him."

Harry shrugged. "Dad put a glamour on me whenever I went out in public. He said it was so I would be protected in case anyone wanted vengeance for You-Know-Who's death or was unstable and thought killing me would either solve their problems or make them famous."

"Call him Voldemort, Harry," Dumbledore instructed, a little disappointed but hardly surprised. Older and wiser wizards than he had flat-out refused to call Voldemort that even now so many years after his disappearance. "Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"I don't actually believe that that's his proper name," Harry objected. "And my father said it's French."

"Well, no, that's not technically his proper name," Dumbledore conceded. "Little known fact: Lord Voldemort is the alias of one Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"I could call him Tom Riddle, I suppose," Harry said slowly. "But then no one would know who I was talking about so I'd have to explain and it would just make things take far longer than they would if I called him You-Know-Who."

"Or Voldemort," Dumbledore hinted.

"It's not that _I'm_ afraid of saying 'Voldemort'," Harry explained. "It's just that other people tend to be shocked and offended by it and they've had good reason to be afraid and lost a lot. I don't want to insult them."

"Very well. I can respect that reasoning," Dumbledore said reluctantly.

"Harry? Are you quite alright? I heard voices," Lockhart said, appearing in the doorway beside Harry. "Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore."

Dumbledore noted the rather conspicuous fact that he hadn't been invited in. Clearly they hadn't been looking forward to this visit. "Gilderoy Lockhart." He said nothing else, just waited for Lockhart to crack and start speaking.

"I see you saw Rita Skeeter's article," Lockhart said eventually.

"I did," Dumbledore agreed curtly. "It took me by surprise, I must admit, as I had rather been under the impression that Harry was being raised by his loving aunt and not in your care for the past ten years."

"Petunia Dursley didn't feel up to raising a magical child and apparently has some deep-rooted issues with magic in general," Lockhart defended.

"Strange how in ten years I never heard this from either of you," Dumbledore said, his tone turning steely.

"According to Petunia, you didn't give her much choice about taking Harry," Lockhart countered. "She said the whole thing seemed like you were obsessed with keeping Harry with her even though that was hardly the best place for him. She was afraid that if she contacted you, you'd find some way to get Harry back with her."

That was actually a pretty accurate prediction of how he would have reacted. "And what about you?"

"I feared the same thing," Lockhart admitted, looking down. "I don't quite know what authority gave you the power to hide Harry away from everyone and place him with his mother's estranged sister but Petunia Dursley was either the legal guardian of Harry in which case she legally signed his custody over to me or she wasn't and Harry had been legally kidnapped by you ten years ago."

Another good point. Dumbledore wondered just how long Lockhart had been planning this. It might have been _years_…

"Harry's mother died to save him," Dumbledore found himself saying. "His aunt and cousin are his only blood relatives on his mother's side. Staying under one roof with them was the only way to keep him safe."

Lockhart turned to Harry. "Harry, don't be afraid of hurting my feelings now. Answer me this: Do you feel safe?"

Harry nodded. "Of course I do."

"You can't possibly expect to keep custody of Harry," Dumbledore said dangerously.

"By what right? Either I have legal custody or you'll face charges of kidnapping," Lockhart pointed out. "You can't cover this up because it is in print. You could find different housing for Harry but there's no way the Wizengamot will take him from me and put him with muggles and if you're not going to place him with his family then there's no reason not to let him stay with me and I'm sure the Wizengamot will see it my way. As for my future employment, the DADA contract's been ironclad for years so neither of us can get out of it."

Harry tugged suddenly on Lockhart's robe. "We're going to be late."

Lockhart checked his watch. "What do you know? I'm dreadfully sorry to cut this short, Headmaster, but we really must be going." He shut the door and then Dumbledore could hear the tell-tale crack of Apparation.

Dumbledore hadn't been quite sure what he had expected but it wasn't that. Who would have thought that shallow, superficial Gilderoy Lockhart would have actually put together a case defending his custody of Harry? Maybe Dumbledore should have waited a bit before going to confront him. He knew that he didn't know enough to find grounds to legally remove Harry from Lockhart's care and Lockhart was right about why he couldn't do it without a court order. Still, all was not lost, not nearly. Both father and son would be under his watch next year at school and he could carefully observe them both and how they interacted. He might even get a chance to try to explain just how dangerous not living with the Dursleys were.

Yes, he might have failed to notice this problem for several years but now that he knew about it, he was confident that he could straighten it all out soon enough.

* * *

The moment Dumbledore returned to his Hogwarts office he found Sirius and Remus waiting for him. He wistfully eyed the staircase he'd come up, knowing that there was no real way he could escape.

"Dumbledore, do you remember when I asked about seeing Harry and you convinced me that it was quite impossible?" Sirius began almost sweetly.

"I do," Dumbledore admitted grudgingly.

"Well, I was never happy about that by I accepted that it was for Harry's safety. Now I see today's issue of the Daily Prophet and realize that Harry wasn't actually living with his aunt and uncle after all? You said we couldn't visit him because Petunia would reject him but she did that anyway and we were never told!" Sirius thundered.

"I can understand your concern-" Dumbledore started to say placatingly.

"And if Harry was going to be removed from the Dursleys then why wouldn't he go to Sirius?" Remus cut in. "Sirius is Harry's legal godfather and sending him to Lockhart is no way to keep him from growing up fully aware of his fame."

"I'm not any happier about this situation than you are," Dumbledore insisted. "And I'm looking for a way to remedy it right now."

"Why would you wait so long to fix it?" Remus demanded. "The article says that Harry's been with Lockhart for nearly ten…oh."

"Oh what?" Sirius asked.

"When, exactly, did you find out that Lockhart had Harry?" Remus inquired.

Dumbledore wasn't quite sure what to say. He _really_ didn't want to spread the story of him finding out from McGonagall a few hours ago any further than it already had. Snape and McGonagall could reasonably be counted on to keep a secret but something told him that Remus and Sirius wouldn't keep something this personal quiet.

His silence apparently said enough.

"He's right, isn't he?" Sirius accused. "You only just found out! Dumbledore, what kind of security is that?"

"Lockhart couldn't have wished Harry harm and taken custody of him and, in fact, I've just been to see Harry. He seems perfectly healthy and content," Dumbledore revealed, trying to appease them.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, of all people," Sirius grumbled, shaking his head. "This is a complete and utter disaster. He may be healthy and happy but who knows what Lockhart's done to him? He was in charge of raising my precious godson!"

"Sirius!" Remus chided. "You know that he's the one that saved you from going after Wormtail and making a mess of things all those years ago."

"Yeah," Sirius conceded. "But that doesn't say anything about his attention-seeking tendencies or child-raising skills. And for that matter, why did he 'just happen' to be there?"

Remus sighed. "Don't tell me that you're going to start being suspicious of him taking you to St. Mungo's!"

"All I know is that I don't remember being attacked and the healers said that I was missing a few minutes of memory. Lockhart _said_ that he found me already collapsed but who knows what _really_ happened?" Sirius challenged.

Remus rolled his eyes. "What are you saying? That Lockhart attacked you, erased your memory of this attack, and then took you to St. Mungo's thereby accidentally saving you?"

"I don't know, maybe!" Sirius cried. "Him saving me was accidental no matter what as he had no way of knowing about Wormtail and I certainly wouldn't have told him."

"Him saving you from prison, maybe," Remus agreed. "But not his saving you from the elements and being left vulnerable outside. And what purpose could Lockhart possibly have for erasing your memory?"

"I…obviously don't remember," Sirius declared. "That fiend."

"You know, when we finally do get a chance to meet Harry, he's probably not going to appreciate you maligning his father," Remus pointed out.

Sirius glared at him. "_James_ was his father!"

"His adopted father, then," Remus amended.

They had almost seemed to forget about Dumbledore and he reluctantly drew their attention back to him so that he could get rid of them. "Lockhart and Harry Apparated somewhere right as I was leaving but I'm sure that they'll be back at Lockhart's house before too long. If you'd like, I can give you the address…"

Review Please!


	6. Diagon Alley

Chapter Six: Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: So someone asked me if this was going to be a 'happily ever after' story and since they didn't have an account, let me say here that this is a humor fic. Spoiler: It's not going to end tragically. One of these days people will check the genre of the story they're reading...

Harry and Gilderoy had Apparated directly outside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had been a little worried about being noticed but Gilderoy had assured him that the same charms that kept people from seeing the building itself would keep them from seeing the people materializing right outside of it. Unfortunately, it didn't stop them from noticing the noise Apparating made and so Harry saw a few confused people looking around for the source of the sound before he entered the pub.

The bartender – Tom, Harry reminded himself – was the only one to glance over at first but given that the story had just appeared in the paper that morning he dropped the glass he was wiping and the other patrons had noticed. They'd formed a mob around him, all trying to shake his hand and introduce themselves.

Gilderoy didn't seem to mind but, upon noticing Harry getting overwhelmed, made them form a line. It wasn't like Harry hadn't seen his father get mobbed by fans before and he had even happened to be standing next to him when this happened on more than one occasion. It was just that the fans had never been there for _him_ before and his mind went blank for a moment. Luckily, his father was there to discretely elbow him and soon Harry was shaking hands with everyone and making sure to use their name in his brief conversation with them. According to Gilderoy, people never expected anyone famous to remember them so it made a big impression when they did and even if he couldn't remember everyone's name for very long, using it seconds after hearing it worked just as well.

Then Harry and Gilderoy went off to Gilderoy's book signing for some pictures and finally Harry was free to get to his shopping while his father stayed and signed books. Harry obviously didn't need to buy his Defense Against the Dark Arts books – though his father had arranged it so that they were ten percent off for current Hogwarts students – and he figured that since he was coming back when he was done with his other shopping, he could put his book-buying off until later so he wouldn't have to carry them around with him.

Harry had been given money to buy school supplies but at some point before term started he'd need to head to Gringott's and see if his parents had left him anything. From what he understood, his father had come from a wealthy Pureblood family so there was probably _something_. He could worry about that when he wasn't busy buying his supplies and his father was with him in case they needed an adult present.

He decided that robes were as good a place as any to start and so made his way to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He really didn't like the idea of having to wear a uniform all the time but he was already going against school policy with his insistence on using paper and pens instead of the archaic parchment and quills so it was best not to push his luck.

Madam Malkin, a plump cheerful-looking witch, clearly recognized him right away – which he would really need to get used to – but to her credit said nothing and ushered him to the back room to get fitted.

There was a bored-looking round-faced boy standing on a footstool while a witch pinned up his long black robes. He brightened when he saw Harry come in. "Hello," he said. "I saw your picture in the Daily Prophet today. Harry Potter, right?"

Harry nodded. "And you are?"

"Neville Longbottom," Neville introduced. "So we'll be going to Hogwarts together, I guess."

From what Harry knew, the Longbottoms were an old Pureblood family. "Do you know much about Hogwarts? I had always heard that I'd be going there but since this is my first time in the UK since I was one I never really believed it."

"Well…" Neville trailed off. "There are seven years of Hogwarts, of course, and four houses. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position is said to be cursed since no one can last more than a year at it. Your guardian is going to be our new DADA teacher, isn't he? I hope nothing happens to him."

"So do I," Harry agreed. "But he only has a one-year contract so we're hoping that the fact that he doesn't want more than a year will stop the curse from trying to physically prevent him for being able to teach for longer."

"What's he like? Do you think he'll be a good professor?" Neville asked eagerly.

Harry wasn't quite sure how to answer that. "I've never seen him teach before so I honestly don't know. He knows a great deal about the creatures he's written about but not as much about the ones he hasn't. He'll probably be sure to be prepared no matter what he's teaching."

"I suppose it could be worse," Neville reasoned. "I heard the professor from three years ago turned out to be a _Squib_. They never would have caught him if it hadn't been for Peeves throwing a cabinet at him. By the time he noticed, he tried to run. He tried to pass his not using his magic as panicking but they tested him and found the truth in the end."

"Peeves?" Harry repeated.

"The school poltergeist," Neville replied. "They say he 'adds character' but I've always found that adults only say that when something's pretty awful."

"They can't get rid of him?" Harry asked, surprised.

Neville shrugged slightly, causing the witch pinning his robes to let out an indignant cry. "Dumbledore probably could but I've heard he's big on character-building."

Harry made a face. "Fun."

"Do you have a preference for house?" Neville asked.

"My father was in Ravenclaw," Harry said. "I think my biological parents were in Gryffindor, though. I don't really know much about the houses, I'm afraid."

"I want to be in Gryffindor like my parents," Neville remarked. "My grandmother was in Slytherin, though, so she's pulling for that. I also don't think Ravenclaw's too bad so it's really just Hufflepuff that I kind of want to avoid."

"Hufflepuff must have a really bad reputation, then," Harry noted.

"They all have different stereotypes," Neville explained. "Everything thinks Slytherins are evil and that all evil wizards come from Slytherin despite Peter Pettigrew being a Gryffindor. Everyone thinks Gryffindors never think before charging into dangerous situations. Everyone thinks Ravenclaws have no social life because they spend all their time studying. Everyone thinks that Hufflepuff is where you go if you're not ambitious enough for Slytherin, smart enough for Ravenclaw, or brave enough for Gryffindor."

"That doesn't sound very accurate," Harry said dubiously. "Ambition probably takes hard work but only if you expect that ambition to go anywhere. Being smart means you could probably coast through life if you wanted to and being brave in dangerous situations just requires you to do work when danger pops up and not in everyday life."

"That's what my mum says," Neville said, nodding. "But you've got to admit that 'hard work' sounds a lot less glamorous than the other traits. And 'Hufflepuff' just isn't a very cool-sounding name."

"Cool-sounding is important," Harry agreed. "But I think the houses were named after the founders so what can you do?"

"You're done, dear," the witch working with Neville told him.

Neville looked like he was trying not to look _too_ happy as he hopped down. "It was nice meeting you, Harry. I'll see you at Hogwarts."

Harry had to wait another ten minutes before Madam Malkin was finished with him and then he went off to get his wand. Entering Ollivanders, he saw two adults speaking with an old man with wide, pale eyes that rather disturbed him even though the man – presumably Ollivander – wasn't even looking at him. A girl about his age with rather bushy hair was holding her wand in her hands with nothing short of reverence.

"Hello," Harry greeted her. "Are you going to Hogwarts next year, too?"

The girl started, almost dropping her wand. "Oh, yes. My name's Hermione Granger. I was ever so surprised to get my letter last week. No one else in my family had ever had magic or even believed in it. We thought it was just a prank until Professor McGonagall came and explained everything. Did you know that she can turn into a _cat_?"

Harry hadn't actually ever even heard of this Professor McGonagall before and so he could safely say that he hadn't. "What does she teach?"

"Transfiguration," Hermione replied.

"Well…congratulations on being the first in your family to have magic," Harry told her.

Hermione smiled. "Thanks. I'm rather nervous. This is all so new and I don't want to mess anything up…Oh! I didn't ask your name."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry introduced, sticking out his hand for Hermione to shake.

"It's nice to meet you," Hermione said politely.

Her failure to react to his name meant that she probably hadn't heard of him yet. Harry decided not to tell her because, really, how did one bring that kind of a thing up? 'Oh, by the way, there was an evil dark lord going around killing muggles and Muggleborns as well as anyone who stood in his way about ten years ago and somehow he vanished when he tried to kill me so everyone thinks I'm a hero?' A history book or someone else could probably give him a more impressive-sounding opening. He really should have paid more attention to his father's attempts to show him how to casually bring up his accomplishments but he had always rather expected that upon hearing his name people would recognize him.

"So what kind of a wand did you get?" Harry asked instead. They were in a wand shop, she was holding a wand, it was a natural question.

"Ten inch vine wood and dragon heartstring," Hermione replied in a very official-sounding voice. "I was really worried that Mr. Ollivander wouldn't have the right wand for me but fortunately it only took three tries to find this one. I really don't know how he figures out which wand to try first or what all those measurements are for."

And now Harry had something completely new to worry about. "That kind of thing doesn't happen very often, does it?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know but I'd imagine that it wouldn't or Mr. Ollivander would probably have a wider selection. So does your family have magic?"

Harry nodded. "My mother was Muggleborn but my father had an old magic family."

Hermione bit her lip, looking like she was considering whether or not to ask him something. "Is it…I'm new to this world and I really don't know anyone. I know that I'll probably be at a disadvantage in my classes but I'm not afraid to work hard and catch up. What I really want to know is…do people _care_ that my family doesn't have magic? Will it be a problem?"

"Some will care," Harry had to admit. "In the wizarding world there's not so much racism as a belief in blood purity. It's really all a bunch of nonsense, though, so don't let stupid people make you feel inferior to them. My dad says that some of them cling to their long wizarding line because they don't have anything else."

Not all Purebloods, of course, because some were wealthy and powerful like the Malfoys but others hadn't adapted to the changing world nearly as well. Gilderoy wouldn't approve of him letting that particular belief be known to someone outside of their family but it wasn't like Hermione was going to go around publicizing it and if it made her feel better, what was the harm?

Sure enough, Hermione smiled. "Thanks. I just…I'm really out of my depth here."

"You'll catch up," Harry said encouragingly. "You must have done as much accidental magic as any of us. We're not legally allowed to have a wand until we either turn eleven or get our Hogwarts letter so even if some kids are allowed to use someone else's wand, it's far less effective. I think it's mostly the culture you'll need to worry about learning and that's no different than learning about the culture of another country."

"I'm thinking about getting some books on wizarding culture," Hermione told him. "I was going to go to the bookstore earlier but there's some famous author signing books today so it was too crowded."

"Well, he'll be done at four," Harry volunteered. "So if nothing else, it will probably have emptied out by then."

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling again.

"Say goodbye to your friend, Hermione, we've got to go," the man talking to Ollivander said.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts," Hermione told him.

With that, Harry was left facing Mr. Ollivander. He suddenly wished that he'd waited to come here until his father was done with his signing.

* * *

There had still been a good-sized crowd in line by the time four o'clock rolled around and Gilderoy was done with the signing. He could have stayed longer, of course, but not managing to get to everybody would just make them want his signature more. Having his books be ten percent off to Hogwarts students had also managed to garner him some goodwill despite the rather obvious fact that he was the one forcing every Hogwarts student to buy his entire collection as part of their curriculum in the first place. That was okay, though. He rather preferred it when other people didn't bother to stop and think thing through.

Harry met him in the back room when he was gathering his things to leave. At some point, he seemed to have gained an owl.

"Did you buy your DADA books?" he couldn't help but ask.

Harry managed to look very serious as he replied, "I thought about it but then it occurred to me that not all of the money I'd spend on them would go towards royalties and so me buying them would actually end up costing you money. I think I'll just use one of the copies we've got sitting around at home."

"How very economical," Gilderoy complimented. "So you have a pet?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sure at some point – maybe not first year since you'll be right at Hogwarts with me – I'll have letters I'll need sent and post owls take _forever_."

"What did you name it?" Gilderoy wondered.

"Hedwig," Harry said proudly. "Her name is Hedwig."

"Hedwig, huh? Good name," Gilderoy said approvingly. "Hedwig was a king of Poland, you know."

Harry blinked. "I thought Hedwig was a girl's name?"

"Oh, she was a girl," Gilderoy assured him. "She just ruled in the fourteenth century and there really weren't many queen regnants at the time so she was crowned king so everyone would be quite clear she was the sovereign. She was only about your age at the time she was crowned, too."

"King Hedwig," Harry said dramatically. "That has a nice ring to it."

"King Jadwiga, technically, but Hedwig is the English version," Gilderoy corrected. "Why did you pick the name if you didn't know who she was?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I may not have bought my DADA books but I did get my History of Magic one and I was just leafing through it and the name 'Hedwig' jumped out at me."

Gilderoy was aghast. "And you didn't look to see who she was?"

Another shrug. "I lost the page and the book doesn't have an index."

Gilderoy shook his head and began muttering about shoddy book designs. "So it's good that you're willing to look through that textbook, Harry, because I'm telling you right now that the class might be the dullest thing I've ever have to go through. _Everyone_ sleeps through it, even the studious ones. If you just read the book before the exam you'll be fine, though."

"How can a class taught by a ghost be boring?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"He was already ancient when he died," Gilderoy explained. "And he was so boring alive that the first thing he did upon dying was showing up for class the next morning. The students realizing that their teacher was now a ghost was probably the last even vaguely interesting thing to ever happen in that classroom."

"But…if he's such a horrible teacher then why doesn't Dumbledore just get rid of him?" Harry asked, still not getting it.

"Tenure," Gilderoy revealed grimly. "The law doesn't take into account whether the person with tenure is alive or not since, really, who would _want_ to teach after they're dead and don't need to anymore?"

"The History of Magic professor, evidently," Harry replied.

"Which is what makes him so _boring_," Gilderoy concluded. "But enough about that. How did your day go? Anything exciting happen? Did you meet any future classmates?"

Harry nodded. "Apparently my wand shares the same core as that of You-Know-Who. I'm not sure why that would ever matter but it's a nice bit of trivia."

"I like the symbolism," Gilderoy declared. "And one day you might want to make that public and let people draw their own conclusions about your destiny. Not now, though, wait until your publicity is running a bit low."

"Alright," Harry agreed. "Oh, and I met Neville Longbottom at Madam Malkin's and Hermione Granger at Ollivanders. They seemed nice but Hermione talked a little too much."

"Longbottom's a Pureblood name but I don't think I've heard of Granger," Gilderoy mused.

"She said she's Muggleborn," Harry informed him.

"That explains it. Still, just because she has no connections _now_ doesn't mean she won't in the future," Gilderoy advised. "Don't fall into the trap that family connections are everything. They're important, to be sure, but there's always room for raw talent."

After all, that was how he found his place in the world…even if it wasn't quite the place that everyone else thought it was.

Review Please!


	7. The Confrontation

Chapter Seven: The Confrontation

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: Since there was some concern, let me state that I don't see Dumbledore giving Sirius and Remus Lockhart's address as a particularly dangerous or horrible thing to do. In canon, Harry does, on occassion, stay someplace that isn't Hogwarts or any great secret. The Burrow, for instance. Lockhart's house has about as much protection as the average house does but it's hardly under a Fidelius Charm. Sirius and Remus would have headed there after finishing talking with Dumbledore anyway and they would have eventually found the address, too, so Dumbledore just sped them along so he could get rid of them.

When Harry and Gilderoy got home, they found that they had two unexpected guests.

"Who are you?" Harry asked curiously. They made an odd pair, really. Both were dressed in very nice-looking robes but while one looked young and handsome, the other looked old before his time.

"Can you believe this?" the younger one demanded. "All this time and all he has to say to us is 'Who are you?'!"

"Well, Sirius, that may be because he doesn't actually know who we are," the older one said mildly.

"That just makes it worse!" Sirius insisted. "How can he not know who we are?"

"To be fair, we haven't seen him since he was fifteen months old," the older one pointed out.

Sirius threw his hands up in the air. "And whose fault is that?"

"I thought we had agreed that it was mostly Dumbledore's fault although we didn't actually _have_ to listen to him," the older one answered.

"If he wasn't going to be with Petunia we should have been able to see him," Sirius said stubbornly.

"I quite agree," the older one – who Harry really wished would identify himself – said with a nod. "But then again, if we had been able to see him then Dumbledore would have known where he was and then he _would_ have been at Petunia's where we couldn't see him."

Sirius looked quite put out. "Why do you have to be so reasonable all the time?"

"It's your influence, really," the older one said dryly.

Harry glanced over at his father who appeared more amused by this exchange than anything else. "Did they forget that we're even here?" he wondered aloud.

The unnamed visitor started slightly. "Oh, dreadfully sorry. My name is Remus Lupin and this is Sirius Black. Sirius is your godfather and we were both friends of your father."

Harry glanced over at Gilderoy for confirmation.

"I'm not sure about the godfather part but I know that Sirius and Remus here were close friends with your father," Gilderoy verified.

"See what Lockhart's done to him? He doesn't even believe us!" Sirius cried out.

"Well…it's not like I've ever met you before," Harry protested. "For all I know, you're just crazy fans _pretending_ that you knew my father."

"And now he's talking about fans!" Sirius complained.

"It's not like he doesn't have them," Remus reasoned. "James used to talk about having fans, too, and he wasn't even famous."

Sirius brightened at that. "There may be hope for him yet!"

"What are you two even doing here?" Harry demanded.

Sirius looked like he was about to start shouting about the travesty of Harry not knowing these answers already - apparently he had wanted a psychic godson – so Remus spoke first. "We're here to see you, Harry. You've grown quite a bit."

No kidding. "Why haven't I seen you before today then?"

"We didn't know where you were," Sirius admitted.

"Why didn't you if you were such great friends of my father?" Harry demanded.

"Because we had been told that you were at your Aunt's and you turned out to be with Lockhart here," Sirius explained.

"But you _just said_ that even had I been at the Dursley's you wouldn't have visited me," Harry pointed out, "and so you don't get a pass on not visiting me just because you didn't know where I was."

"He has a point," Gilderoy spoke up. "And I can assure you that if I had heard anything about the two of you looking for young Harry then I would have discreetly contacted you and set up a meeting."

Harry knew that his father was lying but it wasn't as if Sirius and Remus had any way to know that. Gilderoy hadn't wanted _anybody_ to know before the last possible moment, particularly anybody with a legal claim on him since Harry had technically been kidnapped. And then, of course, there was the fact that Remus had admitted earlier that if they knew where he had been then Dumbledore would have known. Even if Gilderoy had been inclined to let other people know where he was, he would have made sure that they weren't so blatantly in Dumbledore's pocket first as Dumbledore was the one person who absolutely could not know.

That seemed to please Remus but Sirius muttered, "I just bet you would have."

Remus looked awkward. "Dumbledore…You have to understand, Harry, that Dumbledore is one of the most well-respected wizards in the _world_, not just in Great Britain. He is a very powerful, very wise old man and I've found that he's usually right. It's hard to go against him when he manages to make everything sound so very reasonable."

"Not to mention the fact that the night your parents died, I had mysteriously lost several minutes of my memory and had been brought into St. Mungo's by Gilderoy Lockhart himself," Sirius added glaring at Lockhart pointedly.

Harry could guess what had happened, even without Sirius hinting at it. "You saved Sirius, dad? Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"I don't like to brag," Gilderoy said modestly. "Though now that you mention it, that was how I wo-er, was awarded my first Order of Merlin. Apparently you and your parents had been hidden by a Fidelius Charm and everyone who knew that believed Sirius here to be their Secret Keeper when in actuality it was a traitor. If I hadn't brought Sirius in then he might have gone off and done something rash. Killing a traitor is still going to get you arrested, after all."

"It would have been worth it," Sirius swore.

"So you see, Sirius wasn't allowed to leave St. Mungo's until Peter was caught," Remus continued the tale. "And I happened to be there keeping him company when Dumbledore came to tell us of Peter's capture. He took that opportunity to tell us that we couldn't visit you."

"And you just _accepted_ that?" Gilderoy sounded shocked. "I would never let anyone tell me that I couldn't contact Harry. I guess it's different if it's not actually your own child."

Sirius looked about ready to burst at that. "Dumbledore promised us that Harry was with Petunia. He said that it was the only place that Harry would be safe but that Petunia hated magic and so we couldn't see Harry or she might reject him or news of Harry's location might have leaked out! If Harry was with Petunia, we _couldn't_ have visited him. Since he was with you, there is no reason at all that we couldn't have and how _dare_ you put Harry in danger by removing him from the protection he had with Petunia!"

"The protection Harry would have had with a muggle?" Gilderoy asked innocently. "Make no mistake, I'm no bigot but I do rather think that as a wizard I could have provided Harry with a bit more protection than a muggle. And had I told everyone that I was adopting him then the information certainly would have leaked out."

"Besides, was it _really_ a good idea to leave a wizard with a woman who hates magic?" Harry asked logically. "I mean, I only remember meeting my aunt the once but that seems like a disaster waiting to happen."

"We were trying to keep you safe," Remus claimed, looking miserable.

Harry felt a pang of guilt at that even though he knew that it was unreasonable. If Remus and Sirius had had their way, he would have grown up on _Privet Drive_ of all places and would probably have been a lot less happy than he was with his father. "I _am_ safe," he said softly. "You might say that I would have been safer at my aunt's but since I was never attacked here, I don't see how. As long as no one knew where I was, I would have been safe and, for better or for worse, my father did an excellent job of hiding me."

"So we noticed," Sirius said through gritted teeth.

"I have something I've been wondering," Gilderoy spoke up. It would appear that he was determined to be unhelpful. "Why is it that Harry's legal godfather wasn't the one to get custody of him after his parent's deaths? Why turn to a disinterested, estranged, muggle aunt?"

"Dumbledore didn't think it would be safe," Remus replied. "Death Eaters were still out and about and they went after the Longbottoms, you know. If Sirius hadn't needed a project after James and Lily died and insisted on sending some of our associates emergency Portkeys, who knows what would have happened? Baby Neville was with his grandmother but Frank and Alice…the Lestranges aren't known for their restraint."

"I don't see why Sirius couldn't have taken protective measures – emergency Portkeys sound like a great start – or gone into hiding himself for a few years. Unless, of course, being able to go out without being incognito was more important than his supposedly precious godson…?" Gilderoy trailed off. "In any case, I think that by allowing Dumbledore to place Harry with his aunt you waived your rights to him."

Sirius' eye twitched.

"I knew there was a reason I took away his wand before coming here…" Remus mused.

* * *

Once Sirius had calmed down and Gilderoy was in a different room (still listening, Harry was sure, but purportedly leaving Harry alone with his father's friends), Remus turned to Harry. "Tell me honestly, Harry: Are you happy here?"

"Yes," Harry said truthfully. "I've gotten to spend my life travelling and learning about the magical world and those are things I like doing."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ he'd think that. He hasn't been noticeably mistreated and it's the only life he's ever known. Whether Lockhart is a responsible guardian is another matter entirely since his life seems to be a dangerous one that a child has no place being a part of…"

Remus coughed pointedly. "Sirius, do you remember a little talk we had before we came here about what would or would not endear you to your godson? Namely the bit concerning insulting his guardian?"

"Vaguely," Sirius said noncommittally. "Harry, does your guardian-"

"My father," Harry corrected.

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart isn't my 'guardian', he's my father," Harry clarified. "Not biologically, no, but he legally adopted me and he has raised me as his own for ten years now so that's good enough for me." Well…kind of legally adopted him. Petunia had signed the papers eventually.

Sirius' eye twitched again. "Your father was James Potter, the best man I've ever known."

Harry would have to take that on faith and, depending on just who Sirius surrounded himself with, even if that were true it didn't necessarily mean much. "I can believe that and I'll even believe that he was a good father. Just the same, there's nothing wrong with me finding another father in the man that raised me after my biological father gave his life to protect me." Harry wasn't really sure if it had happened that way but his living-father had advised him that his parents heroically giving their lives to save him would look a lot better than them trying to flee or not noticing that Voldemort had shown up. Since no one knew one way or another, why not remember his biological parents as heroes?

"James deserved better than to be compared to the likes of _Gilderoy Lockhart_," Sirius sneered.

Harry eyed Sirius strangely. He would probably be taking a lot more offense to this if it hadn't been for how what he was pretty sure the first meeting his father and godfather had had in years had gone. "You seem to have a rather negative impression of the man who saved your life and kept you out of a great deal of legal trouble."

"Which was entirely incidental as he had no way of knowing that when he took me to St. Mungo's," Sirius argued.

Harry shrugged. "And that means it doesn't count? If we were muggles and I stole your car so you couldn't get to work and everyone in your building dies, I still saved your life. Taking someone unconscious to the hospital is much more selfless than stealing from them."

"I'm with Harry on this one," Remus said, sending Harry a small smile which he tentatively returned.

Sirius looked torn. "Yeah but…it's just…listen, Harry, do you think that it's possible that Lockhart Obliviated me for some reason and then dragged me to St. Mungo's? I mean, who knows? Maybe that's how he knew where you were. It can't have been public knowledge and I find his story about 'just happening' to be the first to find out that Petunia wanted to put you up for adoption a little fishy."

Harry concentrated on not showing any reaction to that theory. How had he possibly managed to piece it together? He really wished that his father was here as he'd know what to do.

Remus shook his head in mild exasperation. "Honestly, Sirius, not this again."

Harry hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.

"What?" Sirius demanded. "It's a perfectly valid question."

"For his father, perhaps, but not for Harry!" Remus cried. "Would you like to hear someone ask you those sorts of questions about your father?"

"I've asked those sorts of questions about _both_ of my parents for years," Sirius said dismissively.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, how would you have felt if someone asked you those sorts of questions about Thomas and Elizabeth Potter? I mean, they weren't your _real_ parents of course but-"

Sirius raised a hand to silence him. "Point taken."

Harry cleared his throat. "It's alright, I don't mind answering. I wasn't there and I suppose anything is possible but I find it a little unlikely that my father would have attacked you, wiped your memory, and taken you to a hospital. It's just…why? Finding out where I was? Why would he seek you out and ask about that? How would he even have known that I was missing so soon after You-Know-Who died? And yeah, maybe what my aunt did wasn't the safest thing in the world but it wasn't really her fault and the important this to remember is that people who wanted to hurt me _weren't_ the ones who got ahold of me. My father was and he's given me a wonderful life."

Remus was smiling a little easier now. "See, Sirius? He's been happy and that's what's really important, isn't it?"

Sirius sighed. "I _guess_. You're sure that you're absolutely happy and not in any way inclined to come live with me instead?"

Harry laughed at that. "Yes, Sirius, I'm sure. I barely know you, after all, and I'd miss my father terribly."

"Are you planning on keep calling him that?" Sirius inquired.

"Yes, Sirius, I am indeed planning on continuing to refer to my father as my father," Harry confirmed.

"Because, you see, 'the man who raised me' would work just as well," Sirius argued.

"Probably," Harry agreed blithely. "But 'father' is a lot less of a mouthful."

"You're not going to win this one, Sirius," Remus remarked.

"The problem is that I don't appear to be winning _any_ of them," Sirius muttered. "Today's been a horrible day. Not only do I find out that my godson wasn't where I thought he was so he could have been dead all this time and I wouldn't have known but our distance from him wasn't necessary and now he wants nothing to do with either of us!"

"Well, it would probably help if you stopped insulting the only parent he's ever known," Remus advised.

"The only way that would be any harder would be if Snivellus was his father," Sirius declared. "And then the only thing my conscious could possibly let me do was to kidnap Harry so as to save him from a life of greasiness and snark."

"I like snark," Harry offered. "Though greasiness…not so much."

Sirius turned towards him, horrified. "No you don't!"

"I rather think Harry would be a better judge of that than you," Remus pointed out.

"He's young and impressionable," Sirius said as if that settled everything.

"Look, it's not like I want nothing to do with you," Harry corrected his newfound godfather's misconception. "I just don't want to stop living with my father. And I'd prefer it if you could stop insulting him but I'm not expecting any miracles here."

"You…you don't?" Sirius asked tentatively, sounding as if he hardly dared to hope.

"No," Harry verified. "My father didn't really know much about my birth parents and since I was hidden until recently I couldn't very well ask around so I really don't know all that much about them. I've never sat down and talked to anyone about them and I'd really like to. Besides, who better to ask about my father than two of his best friends?"

A positively wicked grin lit up Sirius' face. "Alright kid, here's the story of your father and his seven years of stalking the vivacious Miss Evans…"

Review Please!


	8. Probably Not Kidnap

Chapter Eight: Probably Not Kidnap

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Gilderoy watched uneasily as Harry ate the last meal he'd have in their British home for quite a few months.

Harry noticed the staring and glanced up. "It will be _fine_."

"Of course it will," Gilderoy hastily agreed. "When did I say otherwise?"

"You didn't have to say it," Harry replied. "You look like you're worried that Sirius and Remus will kidnap me and spirit me away to some undisclosed location that you'll never be able to get near or even find."

"No I'm not," Gilderoy said unconvincingly.

Harry just kept looking at him.

"Alright, so maybe I am a little," Gilderoy finally admitted. "But given that Sirius has made no secret about the fact that he thinks he should have custody of you despite giving it up years earlier when Dumbledore asked him to and Remus does little to stop him, can you blame me?"

"They're _just_ taking me to the Hogwarts Express since they won't see me until at least Christmas and you'll be at Hogwarts with me," Harry said soothingly.

"So they say," Gilderoy countered. "I'm not sure I trust them. You know that Sirius is convinced that I erased his memory before taking him to St. Mungo's all those years ago."

"Which you did," Harry reminded him.

Gilderoy gave a put-upon sigh. "That just makes it _worse_. Still, at least no one else seems to believe it."

"I think it's the way he's phrasing it, really. It makes him sound like it's just a conspiracy theory," Harry opined.

"I've never tried the whole Cassandra Truth but it's really working for me," Gilderoy noted. "Still, if he says it often enough someone might start believing him so I'll need to watch that."

"You know, even if you do think that Sirius and Remus – okay, mostly Sirius – are not above kidnapping me-" Harry started to say.

"Technically, you've already been kidnapped _twice_," Gilderoy pointed out. "Once by Dumbledore who ignored whatever your parents wanted to happen to you to place with your muggle aunt and one by me a few hours later. Do you really want to be kidnapped _again_? I mean, isn't that getting just a little old?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. I don't remember the first two, after all."

"Well, I've never actually been kidnapped but I'm sure that it would be awful so I would recommend avoiding it at all costs," Gilderoy advised.

"…You realize that if I hadn't been kidnapped I wouldn't have come to live with you, right?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Yes, I do," Gilderoy replied matter-of-factly. "Why?"

Harry sighed. "Just wondering. But like I was saying, even if you think that they want to kidnap me, they won't kidnap me _today_."

"Oh no?" Gilderoy inquired.

"Today I am going to Hogwarts," Harry explained. "If I had grown up with the Dursleys or with Sirius then I would also be heading to Hogwarts. I probably would have grown up in the UK so going to a British magical school would just be practical and Dumbledore is the Headmaster there. If Sirius tried to spirit me away then he'd be taking me away from Dumbledore and he's already proven that he won't actively oppose him."

"Or at least he did in the past," Gilderoy said cautiously. "Since finding out that you weren't living with the Dursleys after all, that may have changed."

"But Dumbledore will know that Sirius has me, then, and he'll be able to track me down," Harry declared. "Besides, Sirius seems really keen on seeing me get sorted into Gryffindor."

Gilderoy frowned. "You don't sound very enthusiastic about that. Do you not want to be a Gryffindor? I can't say I blame you if you don't. Gryffindors are so very reckless and prone to die young."

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't _mind_ being a Gryffindor, I guess. I just don't know that I'm particularly Gryffindor-ish."

"Well that's for the Sorting Hat to decide," Gilderoy remarked. Guardians of new first-year students received their own letter from Hogwarts asking them not to tell their child how the sorting was done so as not to ruin the surprise so, naturally, Gilderoy had done so straight away. Harry was his adopted son, after all, and he believed in giving the boy every advantage he could. He did suggest that maybe Harry not let on that he had been told so that whatever he chose to do with the information would seem more impressive. "What House do you think you'll go to?"

Another shrug. "I don't know. It's a bit much to ask me if, deep down, my defining trait is intelligence, ambition, bravery, or loyalty and hard-work."

"I'd try to avoid Hufflepuff if I were you," Gilderoy counseled. "Hard-work is important, of course, but excessive loyalty is never a good thing. It will just get you into trouble and convince you to do something stupid. For that matter, excessive bravery poses the same risk."

"Hufflepuff has a stupid name, too," Harry agreed. "I'm almost positive I don't want to go there. Between the other three houses, though, I don't know where I'll end up."

"You know that I was in Ravenclaw and it's a fine house," Gilderoy said slowly. "But unlike the other houses, there is no password to get into the Dormitory. They give you a riddle and while it's kind of fun to prove how smart you are for awhile, eventually it gets really old."

"That does seem like it would get a little annoying having to do it multiple times a day for seven years," Harry said thoughtfully.

"And while the first-years of other houses generally don't forget the password after the first few weeks, young Ravenclaws often have to wait for someone else – usually an upper classman – to help out," Gilderoy continued.

Harry laughed incredulously. "Just how difficult are these riddles anyway?"

"Excellent question, Harry. Let me put it this way: Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?" Gilderoy challenged.

"Er…the flame? Because how could a bird made of fire exist unless fire did first?" Harry guessed.

Gilderoy shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that a circle has no beginning, Harry. You might be waiting outside for awhile."

Harry made a face. "That doesn't sound like my kind of place."

"Not to mention that intelligence doesn't really stand out there," Gilderoy added.

"So that leaves what, exactly? Slytherin?" Harry wondered.

"Ah, but Slytherin has its pratfalls, too," Gilderoy cautioned. "First and foremost, there are a lot of very closed-minded people out there who secretly – or not-so-secretly – think that Slytherin is synonymous with evil."

"That's ridiculous," Harry protested. "Why in the world would they have the brave house, the smart house, the loyal house, and the _evil_ house! And we're sorted when we're only eleven. It's kind of rare to find an evil eleven-year-old."

"I did say these were close-minded people," Gilderoy reminded him. "And while those from other houses can hope to disguise their ambition and protest that they're just trying to help other people, no one will believe it of a Slytherin. Your best bet would be pretending to have a different ambition than you really do. Say…making the world a better place. Not that everyone would believe that someone could want that and be a Slytherin."

"So basically what your saying is…that I just shouldn't be sorted?" Harry asked, confused.

"You can't avoid that, sadly," Gilderoy replied. "I don't like all the labels, myself. You never really get past those school day labels, even years after you've graduated. I know they need to divide students for classes and sleeping together but assigning people randomly seems much less divisive and likely to cause problems. As with many outdated or silly customs, however, it's tradition and thus not likely to change."

It wasn't that he thought that all tradition was bad, of course, but he did find that he was far more likely to be told that something was tradition if he didn't like it than if he did. Then again, it's not like he generally questioned the purpose of traditions he was fond of.

"You're giving me a complex here," Harry complained.

"My apologies, then," Gilderoy told him. "The houses do all have their good points as well and you're sure to hear all about them from other people. Some people might think 'blood purity' is one of Slytherins good points since many of those sorted there are from families that cling to it but while Slytherin disapproved of teaching Muggleborns during the age of superstition and witch hunts because he worried they could be spies, that reputation gradually faded. It was only when You-Know-Who began recruiting almost exclusively from the old Slytherin families that that image flared up again. Muggleborns might have a pretty bad time of it if they're sorted into Slytherin nowadays but as a half-blood you shouldn't have much trouble."

"What about as the one who was there the night You-Know-Who died?" Harry demanded. "Would that cause problems?"

Gilderoy shrugged. "Maybe. If they're smart they won't publicly admit that their families supported You-Know-Who and it's not like any of them – even the seventh years – were really old enough to understand what being one of You-Know-Who's followers was like so if they give you a hard time, just remember that they don't know what they're talking about. The world is a far better place without You-Know-Who in it."

"I _really_ don't want to get sorted now," Harry mused.

"That wasn't my intention," Gilderoy claimed. "I just wanted to remind you to be aware of your reputation at all times. Take me, for instance. I should be able to perform the spells to teach the younger years but I'm not going to take the chance that I can't do it so I'll make sure to try it out in the privacy of my quarters beforehand. If I can't do a spell, I'll make sure to avoid demonstrating it so people won't start to question my ability to do the things I've written about if I can't pull off an Expelliarmus."

"Or dropped your wand," Harry added.

"That was _one time_!" Gilderoy protested.

"And it's a good thing I was the only one there," Harry said.

"It would be even better if we never spoke of it again so we can be absolutely sure that there's no risk of anyone finding out about it," Gilderoy hinted.

Harry was about to reply when there was a knock on the door. "That's them, then."

"Probably," Gilderoy agreed, looking uneasy again.

"It will be _fine_," Harry insisted. "You're really overreacting here."

"It's overreacting to be concerned when your child is about to leave home for months on end?" Gilderoy demanded.

"It is when you're going to the exact same place," Harry answered. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Probably," Gilderoy muttered darkly. "I knew I should have actually learned how to work tracking charms…"

* * *

Harry couldn't be absolutely sure, of course, but he was fairly certain that Sirius and Remus were not out to kidnap him. There was a brief moment where he vaguely wondered if his guardian might have been onto something after all when they didn't head straight towards the train station but they had just stopped at a diner for breakfast. Harry had already eaten at home but he'd managed to get a little more down because he didn't want his father's friends to feel bad about making him wait around while they ate.

Now that the three of them were walking into King's Cross station, the possibility that he was about to end up anywhere but on the Hogwarts Express seemed to be dwindling by the second. Unless they were trying to get him onto some other train but that was just being silly and overly paranoid.

"Ah, the Hogwarts Express," Sirius said fondly as they made their way through the station. "I haven't been back here in a few years…since I graduated, really. It really takes me back to my first year."

"Were you nervous?" Harry asked him. He was receiving some odd looks thanks to Hedwig but he didn't pay them any mind. He wasn't entirely sure if muggles were legally allowed to have owls as pets but as long as he wasn't stopped, it didn't matter.

"A little," Sirius admitted. "Mostly because my mum threatened to disown me if I wasn't sorted into Slytherin. When I became a Gryffindor, she wasn't pleased, to put it mildly. It took her almost until June to change her mind. I think what finally did it was finding out that your grandparents had agreed to take me in for the summer if I couldn't go home."

"Why wouldn't they want you to stay with my grandparents?" Harry wondered. "Even if they were blood purists, they were Purebloods."

"But they were also 'blood traitors' and they hadn't completely given up on me yet," Sirius explained. "Mind you, I probably would have been better off if they had but Reggie wasn't a complete git back then so I didn't want to leave him alone with our parents."

"Is that your way of saying that you'll be upset if I'm in Slytherin?" Harry asked quietly.

"No!" Remus was quick to reassure him. "It doesn't matter where you're sorted, Harry, just so long as you're happy with it."

Sirius coughed something that sounded suspiciously like 'and not in Slytherin' and Remus thumped him.

"In all seriousness, Harry, I told you about what happened with my mum so that I could contrast that with the fact that no matter where you end up, you'll still be the son of my best friend and my godson to boot," Sirius told him solemnly. "I wouldn't hate you for ending up in Slytherin although I do reserve the right to complain about it every time I see you."

"We'll see," Remus said in a 'like hell you will' tone of voice.

Harry smiled at them. "Thanks guys. So do you have any advice for me?"

"There's always 'don't bother paying attention in History of Magic' but you'll figure that out soon enough," Remus told him. "Do read the textbook, though. The teacher is dull but the subject is important."

"The train ride will be the first time you'll ever get a chance to meet most of your classmates, particularly as you grew up on the continent," Sirius began. "As such, I would recommend choosing a best friend and a rival now. On my first trip on the Hogwarts Express, I met your real father and Snivellus and both relationships lasted all throughout our Hogwarts career and even longer although I don't really see Snivellus these days."

"Who's Snivellus?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius's face formed a wicked grin and he opened his mouth to answer.

Remus quickly elbowed him.

Sirius winced and rubbed his side. "Sorry, Harry. I'm not allowed to tell you that. Apparently you're young and impressionable and I shouldn't prejudice against productive members of society just because I don't like them." He rolled his eyes to show what he thought of that.

"A little maturity, Sirius, that's all I ask. It's really not a lot and you're in your thirties now," Remus said tiredly.

"Barely!" Sirius protested.

"Do you need a moment to go through a mid-life crisis?" Remus asked innocently.

Sirius' eye twitched. "I will appropriately respond to that when we are not surrounded by witnesses, including Harry."

"Somehow I doubt this will end well," Harry noted.

"Oh, not to worry," Remus said breezily. "We'll just go out to lunch or something after this and in a few hours he'll have forgotten all about this. The mind is the first to go, after all. Ah, here it is."

Harry didn't see the platform but he'd been warned in advance and so casually walked right through it. Once he got to the other side, he waited for Sirius and Remus to join him before asking, "What's to stop muggles from accidentally falling into it if they lean on the wall or something? Muggles have to be able to get in there or else the parents of Muggleborns wouldn't be able to get in."

"Excellent question, Harry," Remus exclaimed, pleased. "Technically, nothing. The portal is only open for a few hours a few times a year, though, and there's always Ministry of Magic personnel on hand to Obliviate anyone that wanders onto the platform and freaks out."

"What do you mean 'Obliviate'?" Harry asked, frowning in faux confusion. His father had told him that it would be best if he didn't seem overly familiar with memory charms.

"They'll erase the muggle's memory of the platform," Remus clarified.

"That doesn't sound very ethical," Harry objected. "Wizards just go around erasing the memories of muggles whenever they want to?"

"It's strictly regulated," Remus assured him. "We have to keep our existence a secret since there are so few of us. If muggles found out about us it might be fine but it might lead to them killing us, experimenting on us, trying to get us to solve all of their problems using magic…we don't want to risk it. Memory charms are a necessary evil, if you will, though it does carry a great potential for abuse."

"You do realize we're not going to see Harry for _months_, right?" Sirius demanded. "Why are you wasting our last moments with him talking about such boring things?"

Remus rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"I should probably get on the train," Harry told them. "I'll make sure to write, though. And if you want to send me care packages or something, that would be absolutely great. I can't really count on them from dad because he's going to be at Hogwarts with me."

"We wouldn't do anything less for the son of a Marauder," Sirius promised.

"Have a good year, Harry!" Remus said, waving goodbye as Harry started to walk away.

So. He was on his own.

Review Please!


	9. The First Train Ride

Chapter Nine: That First Train Ride

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The first thing that Harry heard was some loud bragging.

"My ancestor actually founded Hogwarts so I'll never need to worry about tuition or anything common like that."

Further investigation revealed a tall, skinny blonde boy with an upturned nose had cornered a bored-looking Hermione who was clearly not interested but trying to be polite.

"And so of course I'll be in Hufflepuff. I doubt they'll even need to sort me," the boy continued. "My entire family's remained true to the 'Puffs throughout all these years."

"Harry!" a familiar voice called from behind him.

Harry turned around to see Neville Longbottom quickly walking towards him. He didn't have any luggage with him so he had presumably found a compartment already.

Hermione, eager for escape, looked up at the sound of the name and her face brightened upon seeing someone that she knew. "Harry!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, Zacharias, but I have to go. It was nice meeting you…"

With that, she pushed her way past this Zacharias and towards Harry.

"Hey, I found a compartment," Neville told him. "Do you want to sit with me?" He glanced over at Hermione. "You can come, too, if you want."

"That would be great," Harry said, smiling. He had been a little nervous about having to try and find a compartment on his own and not being able to find anyone not inclined to immediately fawn over him or hate him out of jealousy or because their family had been on Voldemort's side. Neville already knew who he was and Hermione probably did at this point as well but so far they didn't seem inclined towards either extreme reaction.

Hermione nodded as well and the pair of them followed Neville back to his compartment. Since only a few weeks ago his photo had been in the paper, Harry wasn't surprised to see a lot of stares and double-takes as he walked past. He wondered how long it would be before someone tracked him down to see if it was true that he was here.

Once they reached the compartment, Hermione and Harry stored their luggage and they all sat down.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," Neville introduced, extending a hand.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said, accepting the handshake.

Neville glanced Harry's way. "And clearly we both know who Harry is…"

"Well, I do _now_," Hermione grumbled.

Neville frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I met Harry when I went to Diagon Alley for my school supplies and he never told me who he was!" Hermione accused.

"Not true," Harry defended himself. "I distinctly remember telling you that my name was Harry Potter."

"But you didn't tell me that you were _famous_," Hermione complained. "Or anything about you miraculously defeating Voldemort when you were less than a year and a half old."

Harry and Neville both winced.

"You really shouldn't use that name," Neville told her seriously.

Hermione looked confused. "What name? Voldemort?"

Neville winced again. "That is the one, yes."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. "It's just a name and my dad says that fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"That may be so," Harry agreed. "But think at it this way: everyone is still scared of You-Know-Who because they're not sure that he's really gone. There wasn't a body the night he disappeared and no one knows what happened. Ten years also isn't long enough for people to forget the horror of his reign of terror. Using that name will just make people uncomfortable and resentful."

"Besides…well, I should probably ask first," Neville said, almost to himself. "You're Muggleborn, right?"

"Yes, I am," Hermione said, surprised and a little wary. "How did you know?"

"You can't be a Pureblood as I don't recognize your surname and those raised with awareness of magic don't say that name," Neville explained reasonably. "And if you do say it, you'll only offend those who _did_ grow up fearing his shadow and it'll only cause problems for yourself. You can decide to do it anyway, of course, but I just thought I'd warn you of what will probably happen if you do. I mean, _I_ wouldn't do that but I think that a lot of other people would."

Hermione looked a little pale. "Well, I don't want to make things any harder than they have to be so I guess 'You-Know-Who' it is. Assuming I remember. Actually, I should probably write that down…"

"Well, now that that's settled-" Harry started to say.

"It's not nearly settled!" Hermione protested. "You haven't explained why you didn't tell me that you weren't just another future classmate of mine but one of the most famous wizards alive!"

"I wasn't quite sure how to do so without coming off as really arrogant," Harry admitted. "I mean, what was I supposed to say? Neville recognized me from my picture in _Daily Prophet_-"

"True story," Neville chimed in. "And you could have tried carrying around a copy of the paper. But that really wouldn't have done much for your attempt not to look full of yourself, would it? Maybe if you claimed that you were reading the rest of it…"

"But then I would have had to have drawn her attention to the picture of me anyway, regardless of why I had it on me," Harry pointed out. "Now Hermione, you hadn't seen the picture but I thought you'd at least recognize me name. Once you didn't, was I supposed to add that I was a huge celebrity and apparently the most badass baby ever?"

"Well…if you had put it like that I probably wouldn't have believed you," Hermione conceded. "In fact, I'm not entirely sure I would have believed you either way because the whole thing just sounds so fantastical."

"That's what you get when you add in magic," Neville said helpfully.

"You see?" Harry asked triumphantly.

But Hermione wasn't done. "Of course, Mr. Ollivander was standing right there and even if he was a little creepy he still could have confirmed your story."

"At least you found out eventually," Harry said. "And that way we could have a normal conversation without you getting all star-struck or whatever."

"Excuse me," Hermione sniffed. "I do _not_ get 'star-struck.'"

"And I was supposed to be able to tell that from a ten-minute meeting?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione glared at him.

"I think that's a 'yes'," Neville told him. "So, Hermione, you were talking with Zacharias Smith earlier?"

"Oh, you know him?" Hermione asked curiously.

Neville laughed. "Please. We're both Purebloods which means we've both had to spend _far_ more time together than either of us would like."

"So you two don't like each other?" Harry guessed.

"Zacharias has just a little too much pride in his heritage," Neville said delicately. "Oh, and he hates gardening. Really, either of those alone would make a friendship unlikely but both of those…You can't fault our parents for not trying hard enough, though."

"The minute I got on the train, Zacharias told me he didn't recognize me and, after finding out I was Muggleborn, started telling me all about how great his family was," Hermione told them. "I don't think he likes you very much, Harry."

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised. He hadn't heard anything, not even some Quibbler-style rumors, about the Smiths being a dark family. One thing he'd always heard growing up was that if not even the Quibbler saw fit to print something, you could be reasonably assured that it wasn't true. "But I've never even met the guy."

"But he does have to introduce himself and – since Smith's such a common name – announce his famous relative in order for people to know who he is and everyone can recognize you from your picture and your scar," Hermione explained.

"And people are a lot more impressed by what you did than by the fact that a thousand years ago, his ancestor co-founded the school," Neville added. "Records aren't always closely kept and it was such a long time ago that I'm sure a lot of people are related to them even if they didn't keep as good of records as Zacharias' family did. Sure everyone will believe that you're related to Slytherin if you're a Parselmouth but that has the rather unfortunate side-effect of making everything think that you're evil as well."

"What's a Parselmouth?" Hermione asked, not at all pleased to be reminded yet again that she didn't grow up in their world, even if it was only accidental.

"Someone who can speak to snakes," Harry replied. "They're supposed to be really rare. The most famous one is Slytherin himself and it tends to run in families."

"Rare or just not advertised because no one wants everyone to wonder if they're secretly evil when they're not?" Neville challenged. "Or better yet…if they _are_."

"Why can't it be both?" Harry asked. "Pareseltongue has always had a bitter of a reputation but since the last known speaker was You-Know-Who himself, the reputation is pretty unsavory at the moment."

"I see," Hermione said in a tone that indicated that she would be spending most of her first month at Hogwarts in the library. "So while we're on the topic of things that everyone else but me apparently knows, why were you in the _Daily_ _Prophet_, anyway? I mean, I know you're famous but even famous people have to do something to end up in the news, even if it isn't much."

Harry thought about assuring her that she'd catch up sooner or later and, from what he'd seen of her, would probably be answering all of their questions by Christmas but she really didn't look like she'd take that well. Hell, she'd probably find it patronizing even if it was totally true. "The wizarding world found out where I'd been since You-Know-Who killed my parents," he said again.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "_And_?"

Neville grinned. "He'd been out of the country living with another celebrity."

"Who?" Hermione asked eagerly. "You might have to explain who this second celebrity is but…"

"None other than Gilderoy Lockhart, author of all of our defense textbooks and coincidentally also our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor himself," Neville said grandly.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Y-you were adopted by Gilderoy Lockhart? _The _Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"As far as I know, there's only one of him," Harry told her, a little bemused. "And as far as my father and his legal team is as well. He trademarked his name a few years back, you know."

"That is so…I can't believe…that's amazing!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Whatever happened to 'I do not get star-struck'?" Neville wondered.

Hermione leveled a glare at him. "That's different. I read all the textbooks for class, of course-"

"Of course," Harry agreed. He hadn't exactly _wanted_ to but Gilderoy had insisted. Though he wasn't exactly supposed to let people know that, was he? Oh well.

"Of course," Neville repeated mockingly. He shook his head in faux-despair. "Is it too late to find a new compartment and make less studious friends?"

"Hey, studious friends come in handy," Harry defended. "Particularly when it comes to, oh I don't know, _studying_."

Neville rubbed his chin. "You may have a point."

"Are you going to let me finish?" Hermione demanded.

Harry nodded her way. "By all means."

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I read all his books and I have to say that I'm really impressed by all the thinks he's done. He's had so many adventures and helped so many people…he must be so brave and strong and kind…" Hermione said dreamily.

Harry said nothing, feeling a little awkward.

"Hey, Hermione," Neville stage-whispered to her. "Not in front of his son, okay?"

Hermione flushed. "Oh, sorry!"

"Don't worry about-" Harry started to say.

The compartment door burst open then and three boys stood framed in the doorway. The smallest one entered the compartment and the other two made to follow but the first boy raised a hand to stop them. "Watch the door, will you?"

The two massive boys nodded Harry saw them and take up posts outside the door before the blonde boy in the compartment with them closed it behind him.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Oh, sure, don't even say 'hi' to me, Draco," Neville complained. "I see how it is. One day it's 'Don't go making friends with the wrong sort, Neville' and the next it's 'Out of my way, I want to crowd the famous person.'"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Hi, Neville. Clearly you don't need any advice about making friends with the wrong sort if you've managed to snag Harry Potter. Although I don't recognize this girl."

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione introduced, holding her hand out for him to shake.

Draco accepted the handshake without looking at her. "Draco Malfoy. And you are?"

Harry sighed internally. And so it began. Not that he minded being famous or anything but being known for himself instead of his famous father was still a bit overwhelming and he'd been having fun with Neville and Hermione. "I'm Harry Potter, yes."

"Why were you so certain this was Harry?" Neville asked curiously. "Did you seriously check every other compartment but this one?"

"I have the worst luck," Draco grumbled. "Listen, Potter, you're new to Magical Britain and you might go making friends with the wrong sort-"

"Oh, what's this? I go making friends with Harry and you stop worrying about my taste in friends but he makes friends with me and suddenly needs your help?" Neville cried out in mock-outrage. "Draco, I don't know how to say this but…it's like going off to Hogwarts has made you a completely different person, one that I barely even recognize."

Draco rolled his eyes again. "Your grandmother was talking to my parents while we stood by not even an hour ago."

Neville shrugged. "The speed just makes your horrible transformation even more hurtful."

Draco was about to say something when they heard a commotion outside. Draco opened the door to see what was going on.

"You can't keep me out here," Zacharias was insisting. "I probably own part of this train!"

"Good for you," one of the boys said. "But until Draco says you're getting in, you're not getting in."

"Oh, let him in," Draco said irritably.

The boys stepped aside.

"Those are Crabbe and Goyle, by the way," Draco told Harry. He hadn't actually indicated which was which or mentioned any first names but Harry supposed that if it was really important he'd learn it later. It wasn't like he was planning on being one of _those people_ who have class with someone every day for years and yet had no idea what their name was.

Two boys entered the compartment, Zacharias and a red-headed boy with a smudge on his nose.

"There is a rumor going up and down the train – quite childish, really, but what can one expect? – that I wish to evaluate the veracity of-" Zacharias began pompously.

The redhead interrupted him. "Is Harry Potter in here?"

Harry gave another internal sigh and waved slightly.

"This is so wicked!" the redhead breathed. "I'm Ron Weasley."

"He's a perfect example of one of those people we were just talking about," Draco said innocently.

"My name is Zacharias Smith, descended from the great Helga Hufflepuff herself, you know," Zacharias informed them.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ron. Zacharias, we met briefly when I first got on the train," Harry said, hoping Zacharias wouldn't notice he didn't say he was glad to meet him.

"I do hope that everyone's expectations of you and, more to the point, failing to meet every one of them won't cause you too much distress," Zacharias said almost sweetly.

Harry stared at him. "…Thank you."

"So, do you remember anything about the night You-Know-Who tried to kill you?" Ron asked eagerly.

Draco looked like he was getting a headache.

"How could he possibly remember that?" Hermione asked incredulously. "He was only 15-months-old."

"Not to mention you're essentially asking about his parents' murder," Neville agreed. "_So_ not cool."

"Is that a no?" Ron asked.

Now Harry felt a headache coming on as well. "I remember a lot of green light. My dad says that that sounds like the killing curse and since everyone thinks that surviving that was how I got this scar, I'm willing to believe that." It was also entirely possible that that wasn't a real memory of his but rather a pseudo-memory he had because of how many times he'd heard the story but that was on the list of things he wasn't supposed to tell anybody as it would do him no favors.

"Well," Draco said loudly. "I'd love to stay and chat but it's getting a little too _common_ in here."

"Don't let the door hit you on your way out," Ron muttered.

"I agree," Zacharias said, also heading for the door.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville looked expectantly at Ron.

For his part, Ron looked a little sheepish. "Actually…do you mind if I stay in here? I passed by the compartment I was in before and, well…there was a pair of underwear caught in the door…"

Harry made a face. "By all means."

Review Please!


	10. The Sorting

Chapter Ten: The Sorting.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: So a lot of people commented on how much of an ass Ron apparently was. I wasn't really trying to make him come off that way but in canon he _did_ ask Harry if he could remember anything about that night. It was just Harry and Ron alone in the compartment, though, so no one could tell him that it was a stupid question given Harry's age at the time or kind of insensitive (even though Molly had told the twins not to ask about it just a few minutes before when Ron was standing right there).

Ron wasn't all bad, Harry discovered, just rather insecure. He figured it probably had something to do with growing up with so many accomplished brothers. There was no winning in that situation. You were either just one of the lot or the untalented one. Unless, of course, you managed to do something far more impressive than any of the others but given that they spent their time doing things like dragon-breeding and curse-breaking that was kind of a lot of pressure.

Still, in the time after Ron sat down with them and before they had arrived at Hogwarts again, Harry knew that spending too much time with him might not be the best idea. Hermione could be a bit in-your-face about what she knew but she was also trying to prove herself in a world she didn't feel she belonged in and it was bound to come in handy. All Ron saw was that she was kind of annoying. He was also a little jealous of Neville's family's money and Harry's fame. It wasn't like he was a bad person and he had even made Harry laugh but while he wasn't about to make Ron an enemy, he rather suspected that close friendship would be an unnecessary complication at this point. It wasn't like he could do anything about his fame (or that his father would ever forgive him if he did) and he shouldn't have to.

But damn if that didn't make him feel a little guilty. Gilderoy might insist that it was an emotion that was completely useless at best and absolutely disastrous at worst but that didn't mean that Harry could turn it off so easily.

Harry was almost knocked over by Zacharias Smith roughly brushing past him and taking the last seat in Neville, Hermione, and Ron's boat and so he allowed himself to be waved over to Draco Malfoy's boat where Crabbe and Goyle were also sitting.

"Utterly tactless," Draco said reprovingly as the boat took over. "I mean, just bowling into you like that? What is he, a common Muggle?"

Harry decided that this was either a rhetorical question or would do him no good to answer anyway and so he was going to treat it like one.

"Still, I do believe that you've found your rival," Draco continued, undeterred by the lack of response.

"My what?" Harry asked, laughing a little.

"Your rival," Draco repeated. "On the first train-ride to Hogwarts, you're going to want to try to meet your future best friend and rival if you don't already have them. Crabbe and Goyle will do for friends, I suppose, and Weasley can be a rival. He's a rather poor pick, I'm afraid, but at least he's Pureblood and our fathers' are rivals of sorts so it'll be like carrying on a tradition."

Harry shook his head in bemusement. "It looks like you've got your future all planned out."

"Well it wouldn't do to make a hasty choice," Draco explained. "What if I chose, say, Neville as a rival? He'd never take it seriously. Plus he keeps telling me that he plans to be a Hufflepuff and I will _not_ demean myself by rivaling with one of _those_ people."

That had actually been the opposite of what Harry had heard but he figured that Neville was just teasing Draco…possibly to avoid being dragged into a silly rivalry. "How do you know Ron won't end up a Hufflepuff? We haven't been sorted yet," he pointed out.

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, the Weasleys are always in Gryffindor. It's practically genetic. Even that unadventurous bookworm ended up there. If they had more money, I'd suspect bribery."

"Aren't the Malfoys always in Slytherin?" Harry countered. "How do I know _that's_ not bribery?"

"As Slytherins we wouldn't hesitate to do that if need be but, as Slytherins, it's never been necessary," Draco sniffed.

"Of course not," Harry said immediately, not wanting to insult him. A subject change was probably in order. "And you think Zacharias is my rival?"

Draco nodded. "It stands to reason. You don't just deliberately smash into everyone like that. He clearly doesn't like you."

"If people have to be rivals with everyone they meet that doesn't like them then it seems like they'll have far more than just one," Harry replied.

"But Zacharias was the only one who met you and disliked you on the train, right?" Draco asked.

"I guess so," Harry admitted.

"And he does seem quite jealous of you. I'm sure he'd both welcome and resent the idea of being your rival," Draco said confidently.

"Why do I even need a rival in the first place? It just sounds so unnecessarily troublesome," Harry protested.

Draco gave him a pitying look. "It's just the way these things are done. You don't want to miss out on an essential part of the Hogwarts experience, do you?"

Harry groaned. "You're beginning to sound like my godfather."

Draco perked up. "Oh, that's Sirius Black, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. "Indeed," he confirmed. "Why? Do you know him?"

"He's my cousin," Draco explained. "And the head of my mother's family. Father said he's kind of weird and has some bizarre views but he's also a wealthy Pureblood cousin with no heir so allowances must be made."

Harry hid a grin. Oh, he understood that perfectly. No need to offend the man who could you quite a bit of money, after all. "I see. Have you ever met him?"

Draco shrugged. "Once or twice. He's very close with that one friend of his. Lupin, right? Mother says it's quite unusual and you know what people will say."

Harry frowned. "No, actually. I don't."

"Well…neither do I," Draco confessed. "But it didn't sound good."

* * *

At least it had been a calm night. Harry didn't even want to think about how horrible the boat ride would be if it the weather had been uncooperative. As it was, the whole thing seemed a little pointless. Sure they had gotten a chance to see a majestic view of the castle but that was more melodramatic and show-off-y than necessary and if they really needed to separate the First Years from the rest of the student body, couldn't they have just asked them all to stand somewhere?

So maybe being in such a small boat had freaked him out a little even if logically he knew that there was probably some magic at work preventing the boats from capsizing. Well…maybe. Wizards never did seem all the concerned with the safety of their children.

Before they had been brought in to the Great Hall, a party of ghosts had passed by overhead making it really easy to identify how magical of an upbringing the various First Years had had. For his part, Harry had been more concerned by the fact that Peeves the poltergeist was such a nuisance than the ghosts' appearance. Although he did kind of have to wonder if they really did _accidentally_ pass by them. Being dead, the ghosts technically didn't need to have much of an awareness of time or date but you never knew and there would never be a better time to make an impression than the first night in Hogwarts.

From the head table, Harry recognized Professor Dumbledore and his own father who was certainly more colorfully dressed than anyone else at the table. Gilderoy always said that bright colors were better for his complexion…and for focusing people's attention on him.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione whispered, pointing to the ceiling.

"I would say that that was very interesting except that come morning that fact will be really obvious and I just can't get all that worked up about a ceiling," Neville responded. "I mean, maybe if the ceiling were _falling_ but otherwise…"

"Normally I'd agree but it's a _magical_ ceiling," Hermione said, waving her hands for emphasis. "How can that not be interesting?"

"Because I've been surrounded by magic my entire life?" Neville hazarded a guess. "That's really the quickest way to take something for granted."

"Hey Harry, do you think we're going to have to fight a troll? My brothers said we were going to have to fight a troll," Ron said, looking a little queasy.

"These would be your twin prankster brothers, yes?" Zacharias asked pointedly.

Ron nodded. "Yes, why?"

Zacharias rolled his eyes disgustedly. "Oh, never mind…"

"I kind of doubt it," Harry said slowly. He was mindful of the fact he wasn't supposed to let anyone know he knew what the sorting would be but at the same time he didn't want to leave Ron to worry. "I kind of worry about wizard child safety laws if that really seems like a valid test for eleven-year-olds to take, though."

"I agree," Hermione said, neatly inserting herself into the conversation. "Anyone would lose a wrestling match with a troll and in addition to the fact that most of us don't know much magic-"

"Maybe _you_ don't," Draco muttered.

"Trolls are resistant to most spells so it would hardly be fair. And how are you supposed to sort based on troll-fighting prowess? Gryffindor if you charge in blindly, Hufflepuff if you slowly but steadily wear it down, Ravenclaw if you come up with a good idea, and Slytherin if you have enough self-preservation instincts not to agree to it in the first place?" Hermione demanded.

"You did lay out a system right there," Neville pointed out, smirking.

Hermione batted at his arm. "Not helping."

While they'd been talking, Professor McGonagall had brought out a clearly ancient hat and placed it on a stool a few feet away from the huddled mass of first years. The hat lay still for a moment before it began to…sing.

"Why is that hat singing?" Zacharias demanded. "Hats should not sing."

"I'm with you," Harry said with no small degree of surprise.

Zacharias glared at him. "It's a lovely and time-honored tradition, you heathen."

Well, it looked like Zacharias really did have it out for him. Oh well. Sirius would be pleased that he'd accidentally managed to go out and acquire a rival for himself, at least.

"So…no troll then?" Ron asked, just to be sure.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Unless that hat's hiding a troll inside of it then I would highly doubt it. I can't believe you thought we'd have to face a troll."

Ron flushed angrily. "Oh, shut up!"

"Your rapier wit leaves me speechless," Draco deadpanned. At least Draco was happy about his own rivalry. Harry couldn't exactly call the boy _nice_ (and he certainly seemed to buy into all that Pureblood supremacy nonsense) but he was friendly enough to Harry and rather amusing. Not to mention that alienating someone like a Malfoy over something trivial like personality would be a huge mistake.

With that, McGonagall began to call out names. Harry didn't envy Hannah Abbot for having to go first. The poor girl was so nervous she practically tripped on the way to the stool, the hat fell over her eyes, and she had to be reminded to take the hat off when she was halfway to the Hufflepuff table. Yeah, Hannah's performance really wouldn't do anything to combat the widely-held belief that Hufflepuff was the leftover house.

When it was Hermione's turn, she practically ran to the hat and jammed it down eagerly on her head. Her eagerness lasted all of five seconds before she frowned and appeared to be silently arguing with the hat. And a good ten minutes, the hat declared her to be a Gryffindor. Looking pleased with herself, Hermione went to go join her new house. Harry would really have to remember to ask her about that. The hat had probably tried to put her in Ravenclaw. Harry didn't think he had ever actually asked her about house preference but now there was no need.

When Neville came up, the hat put him in Gryffindor after only fifteen or so seconds and he merrily walked over to sit next to Hermione before McGonagall called him back to make him give the hat back. Judging from the grin Neville was wearing, he hadn't accidentally walked off with it like Hannah had.

The hat had barely touched Draco's head when he was proclaimed a Slytherin which made it pretty clear that it was either a matter of destiny or of bribery.

"It's probably all that hair gel," Zacharias opined. "The hat didn't want to get all greasy."

"Potter, Harry," McGonagall called out causing the Great Hall, which had begun to fill with chatter as people got bored of watching the sorting, to fall silent once more.

Harry listened to the whispers of people wondering if that really was him (what? Was it supposed to be some sort of elaborate prank?) and forced a smile as he made his way to the stool. He glanced over at Gilderoy who flashed him a discrete thumbs up.

He placed the hat on his head and waited.

"_Well, well. What do we have here?"_

"_You wouldn't be a very good psychic hat if you needed me to tell you that," _Harry thought in the hat's general direction since he was assuming that was where the strange voice came from.

A laugh. _"True but I need __**something**__ to use as an opening line. Let's see…not a bad mind, plenty of courage, a thirst to prove yourself…you wouldn't really be a good fit for Hufflepuff, I don't think, but we could work with the other three." _

"_NOT Ravenclaw, please," _Harry requested. _"Those passwords would drive me mad."_

"_And that, right there, is why you're not Hufflepuff material," _the hat informed him._ "Alright, not Ravenclaw. So what's it to be. Gryffindor and Slytherin? Slytherin could make you great, you know."_

"_You tell me," _Harry replied. _"Neville and Hermione are in Gryffindor but if houses truly matter then I can't pick one just because my friends are in it and I'm sure I'd make friends in Slytherin. Draco already seems to have decided that we should be friends, after all, even if he's a bit…Draco."_

"_Well if you really don't have a preference then I'll have to do what I think will be best for you which is…SLYTHERIN!"_

There was a stunned silence for a moment.

"Do we want Potter?" a voice from over by the Slytherins asked urgently.

"Shut up! Of course we want Potter!" someone else answered. "He might convince people we're not evil."

"Questions like if we want him or not really don't help our cause," a third voice pointed out.

The Slytherin table began to clap and slowly the other tables followed suit.

Harry glanced up towards the staff table again as he made his way to the Slytherin table and Gilderoy nodded at him to show that he was fine with the sorting. There was nothing that could have been done if Gilderoy wasn't but he would still prefer that he not have to deal with any disappointment.

Unfortunately for the students still to be sorted, all the excitement and apparently controversy over Harry's sorting meant that no one was really paying attention to their own sorting. Would people be shocked if Harry had been sorted into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw as well or was it only the fact that he was in Slytherin that was the problem? Was he supposed to be a Gryffindor just because his parents had been Gryffindors and his father's family had had a lot of Gryffindors? That was just silly, particularly since he hadn't been raised by his biological family.

Zacharias Smith, who had indeed managed to promptly get sorted into Hufflepuff, looked especially peeved about the lack of attention and if the way he was glaring was any indication, he blamed it all on Harry.

Oh joy. It looked like there would be no escaping this whole rival business.

Review Please!


	11. Introductions

Chapter Eleven: Introductions

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"I am _so_ sorry," was the first thing Draco said to him.

"For what?" Harry asked blankly. "Getting sorted into Slytherin?"

"Of course not," Draco said impatiently. "You got into the best house so that's fine, I'm talking about the issue of your rival."

Harry groaned. "Did you see his face when no one was paying attention to his sorting?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I was one of those people paying no attention to his sorting, after all."

"I've exchanged less than a dozen sentences with him and I really don't have a problem with him but I highly doubt that I can escape being his rival," Harry lamented.

"And _that's_ why I'm sorry for you," Draco clarified.

Unfortunately, Harry still didn't get it. "But I thought you approved of Zacharias as my rival on the boat."

"I did," Draco admitted. "But then he got sorted into _Hufflepuff_. Having a Hufflepuff as a rival is just embarrassing."

"Having an epic rivalry declared because we happened to meet on the train and didn't become fast friends is **stupid**," Harry countered.

"If that helps you feel better about this then by all means, continue saying that," Draco said patronizingly.

"Why are you so surprised that he's in Hufflepuff anyway? He keeps talking about how he's descended from her and he clearly wanted to be there," Harry pointed out.

Draco shrugged. "I guess but I mean…_Hufflepuff_? Really? I guess I figured that, Hufflepuff blood or not, anyone related to a founder wouldn't be that lame. I mean, even Neville made Gryffindor and he likes _gardening_." The last bit was said in a whisper as if it were some sort of shameful secret.

Harry really didn't understand what the big deal was. He thought gardening was okay but found it too dull to really interest him, even when dealing with magical and dangerous plants.

"Starting to regret choosing Ron as your epic rival?" Harry inquired.

"A little," Draco admitted. "I'm just not sure that he'll be able to put forth enough of a showing to make it not look pathetic that he's my rival. I'll completely upstage him at every turn, of course, but there's such a thing as going too far and if you do then no one can take your choice seriously."

"And you can't just switch rivals?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Draco laughed. "Of course not. That would be completely ridiculous. There is a precedent that must be followed, you know."

"Of course," Harry agreed, hoping he sounded even remotely sincere.

"For the record, I'm glad you're in Slytherin," Draco told him cheerfully. "It really is the best house, you know, and our house colors will really bring out your eyes."

Harry refused to admit that he had already considered this. Even if his father had made it clear that wearing colors that didn't suit you would do you no favors and make you an eyesore, he still felt that it was a little embarrassing to openly talk about.

"I mean, look at the Weasleys. As if they needed anything more to make them a laughingstock, their hair clashes horribly with Gryffindor scarlet. Not that that stops them from insisting on adorning themselves in it, I see," Draco said snobbishly.

"I'm glad I was sorted somewhere where I already knew someone," Harry said carefully. "If I were in Gryffindor I'd know Hermione and Neville and even Ron but I don't actually know _anyone_ from Ravenclaw and the only person I know from Hufflepuff is Zacharias."

"Not to mention that it's _Hufflepuff_," Draco said, as if that explained everything. "But I do see what you mean. Even had that house not been a joke, being in the same house with your rival is generally a no-no. All rivalry confrontations are supposed to be at least mildly hostile, after all, and how are you supposed to maintain that if you sleep in the same room? For that matter, how are you supposed to be able to lower your guard enough to sleep in the same room?"

Harry wondered vaguely if all these Pureblood parents had sat their children down and gave them a lecture about the importance of rivalry. He tried to remember if Gilderoy had mentioned anything about that but came up blank. "Although I was a bit…surprised at the fact that people were openly asking if they really wanted me. I was rather inclined to agree with whoever said that asking if they wanted the kid who is widely believed to have defeated You-Know-Who isn't exactly the most cunning thing to do."

"But then, not everyone who gets sorted into the cunning house necessarily fits my definition of 'cunning," the boy sitting across from Draco neatly inserted himself into the conversation. He was tall and thin with rich dark hair. "I'm Theodore Nott, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you," Harry said automatically, holding out his hand to shake. "What do you mean?"

"They need approximately a fourth of each new class in the four houses, right?" Theodore reasoned. "And we already have to split the smart one with Ravenclaw."

"You and your conspiracy theories," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"You and your mindless acceptance of everything around you," Theodore mimicked.

"How in the world is that Hat supposed to be able to purposely keep things roughly equal? Sort the first kids by where they belong and start pigeonholing the rest?" Draco challenged.

"I'm sure I don't know," Theodore replied. "But that's because I'm not a millennia-old psychic hat. I'm sure that if I were, I'd have an answer for you. And you have to admit, if the hat were going by cunning alone, we would not be blessed with fellow Slytherins who openly debated if we even wanted the single most famous student at Hogwarts."

"I have to admit no such thing," Draco sniffed.

Theodore rolled his eyes and turned to speak to the black boy beside him.

"Theodore's fond of conspiracy theories," Draco said quietly to Harry. "I don't think he believes half of them, he just finds it amusing. So do I, actually, when I'm not seriously concerned for him."

"Who else is here?" Harry asked, jumping at this new opening. "I don't really know our new classmates."

"Well, there's Crabbe and Goyle, of course," Draco said, gesturing vaguely to the two huge boys. He still wasn't explaining which was which but Harry had been watching during their sorting and had learned that their first names were Vincent and Gregory, respectively. He doubted if this information would ever come in handy but it was always useful to be informed. "Theodore's sitting next to Blaise Zabini. His mother hasn't had much luck keeping her husbands alive, to put it mildly. Best not mention it, he gets a little touchy."

"Is he…fixing his hair?" Harry asked uncertainly. There was nothing wrong with appreciating proper hair care but while eating was really not the time. That couldn't possibly be sanitary.

"He's a bit vain, too," Draco acknowledged. "Then that's Daphne Greengrass, over there." He pointed to a pretty blonde girl whose hair was done up in Dutch braids. "She's a bit odd but nothing too bad. She did get into Slytherin, after all."

Harry wondered what, exactly, would get someone like Draco to find someone odd and if that meant that they were even more eccentric than he or else actually somewhat normal.

"That's Tracey Davis with the red hair. I know you may be tempted to but whatever you do, do _not_ make a reference to her looking like a Weasley or being closer related to them than any Pureblood must be," Draco warned. "She can get violent."

As it happened, Harry hadn't had the slightest temptation to do anything of the sort and he really didn't think that Tracey looked that much like a Weasley. The ones he had seen all had bright orange hair and hers was a much darker red.

"Finally, there's Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson," Draco said, gesturing to a large girl with black hair who looked like he could probably make them both cry and a girl with long, straight dark hair whose face reminded Harry irresistibly of a pug…which he had sense enough not plan on never mentioning to her. Ever. "I'd be careful around Millicent if I were you. She has four cats and so her clothes always have fur on them. Pansy's okay but sometimes she gets a little clingy."

"So that's everyone in our year, I see. Thanks," Harry said politely.

"It's my _duty_ to help those who should know but don't learn the ways of the wizarding world," Draco said, a faint air of superiority in his voice.

Harry valiantly resisted the urge to point out that he knew plenty about the 'ways of the wizarding world' and it was only the students of Hogwarts that he needed to be introduced to. "Anyone else?"

"Well…there's Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain," Draco said, indicating a boy who looked like there might be some troll blood in him. "He's a sixth year. And our ghost is the Bloody Baron. No one knows how he died but we all pretty much agree that he must have taken at least a dozen other people with him. Our Head of House is Professor Snape. He's the best head because he's the only one who openly favors his house."

"That doesn't sound very subtle," Harry noted.

Draco shrugged. "Well the other houses all openly discriminate against us so it's only fair. He's really into the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry so I imagine Potions with the Gryffs should be interesting." Well, interesting was one word for it. Personally, Harry didn't think that engaging in a house-rivalry (or any other kind of rivalry for that matter) when surrounded by dangerous chemicals was at all a good idea. Or a sane one.

"Which one is he?" Harry asked, glancing towards the staff table.

"He's seated three chairs to the left – our left – of Professor Dumbledore," Draco directed.

Harry's eyes slid over from the man in the large purple turban to the sallow-skinned man with a curtain of greasy dark hair (he had heard something about that before, he thought, but he couldn't remember what). Snape met his eyes as the man with the turban turned around and suddenly there was a burning pain in his scar.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, sounding almost concerned. Harry wondered just how odd or hurt he looked to get Draco to not only notice but to actually bring himself to ask about it.

"Killer headache," Harry told him. "Who's the guy with the turban?"

"Um…that would be Professor Quirrell, I believe. He teaches Muggle Studies and even if you were the sort to care about things like that, you can't take it until third year," Draco informed him. His tone implied that he didn't think Harry was that sort but Harry honestly wasn't sure one way or the other. He wasn't entirely sure that his knowledge of Muggles was good enough and not being able to blend it would put a lot of unnecessary restrictions on him when he got older. "I hear he wanted to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year before your father agreed to take the position."

Well that was strange. Even if he did remember Gilderoy telling him that Snape hated his father and thus might not like him, someone just not liking him wouldn't make his scar hurt. Nor, for that matter, would someone just being evil. He'd have to ask his father about it. Chances were that Gilderoy wouldn't know and he'd have to go to the library but anything useful was bound to be in the restricted section so he'd need to get Gilderoy involved anyway.

* * *

After the feast was over, Gilderoy headed to a staff meeting. He rather felt that this was a waste of his time because the only thing that had happened was the students had been sorted but maybe the teachers wanted a chance to gossip over that.

Sure enough, the minute Dumbledore asked if anyone had anything pressing they needed to discuss, Snape practically shot to his feet. "Potter, Headmaster? Really? _Potter_?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about Severus," Dumbledore said innocently, examining the painting behind Snape in great detail. "I'm nearly positive that I did, in fact, inform you that he would be attending Hogwarts this year."

"I know _that_," Snape said impatiently. "I'm referring to the fact that somehow or other he managed to end up in my house! How could this happen?"

"I'm told that a certain cunningness or ambition is generally involved," McGonagall said dryly.

Snape snorted. "Cunning and ambition from a Potter? The damned hat must be trying to meet a quota."

"This might be a good thing, Severus," Dumbledore spoke up. "Having young Harry under your care could help mend Slytherin's tragically tarnished reputation and perhaps provide a bit of closure for you, as well. A chance to see that he's _not_ a clone of James."

Snape shot Gilderoy a look. "I'm not so sure about that," he muttered.

"Alas, I didn't know Harry's biological father so any resemblances you might spot are either genetic or coincidental," Gilderoy claimed.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Snape accused Dumbledore.

"I enjoy a great many things about Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied. "That's why I'm the Headmaster."

"I feel obliged to let you know right now how this is _not_ going to turn out," Snape said flatly.

"That's thoughtful of you," Dumbledore remarked. "Do go on."

"I'm not going to start off irrationally hating Potter because of his parents even if he did make a pained face and cover his eyes the minute he saw me," Snape began.

"That's certainly big of you, Severus," Dumbledore said jovially. "I feel inspired already."

Gilderoy, meanwhile, was wondering if perhaps he'd have to let Harry know about this meeting.

"After that doesn't happen, I'm not going to be forced to spend time with him in my classes and as the head of his house and start to see a new side of him," Snape continued. "Particularly as I'm not going to find out that he was abused or neglected or had some other tragic problem growing up other than his mother's death."

"_And_ his father's," Sprout reminded him.

"Yes, that," Snape said dismissively.

"I should say not!" Gilderoy exclaimed. "Harry had a great childhood and he was very happy."

"So you say," Dumbledore remarked almost casually.

"So _Harry_ says," Gilderoy countered.

"Well Harry is a very loyal child," Dumbledore replied. "But Severus seems to agree. What won't happen then?"

"I'm certainly not going to see a side of him that I hadn't before and see some of myself or any random relatives of him that aren't his father in him. I'm not going to be drawn to his modesty, intelligence, kindness, or any other virtue you can think of," Snape declared passionately.

"Well, now I think you're just limiting yourself," Dumbledore complained. "Would it really be so bad if that did happen?"

"It doesn't really matter if it would or would not be since it _won't_," Snape insisted. "And finally, I will most certainly not become his favorite teacher and or his mentor. I simply will not do it and this will not become an inspirational story. It will not."

"If you say so, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Snape demanded.

"Is it really important if I believe you or not?" Dumbledore inquired. "It either will happen or, as you say, it won't regardless of my personal belief, after all."

"I don't trust you not to meddle 'for the greater good' to try to achieve that outcome," Snape said pointedly.

"Then I am wounded by your lack of trust in me," Dumbledore said sadly. "Really, Severus, we've known each other for years."

"I think that might be _why_ he doesn't trust you not to meddle," Flitwick spoke up.

Several of the other teachers nodded.

"Me? A meddler?" Dumbledore sounded shocked though there was a twinkle in his eye. "I simply don't know where these blatantly untrue and unfounded accusations are coming from."

"Perhaps from witnessing your past behavior?" McGonagall asked innocently. "Just a thought."

"So you all think that I'm planning on…what was the term you used?" Dumbledore asked.

"Meddling," Sinistra supplied.

Dumbledore nodded. "Right, thanks. _Meddling_ in young Harry's life?"

The teacher's exchanged a look.

"We would actually be a little worried if you didn't," Sprout said finally.

Review Please!


	12. Ghosts Can Be Surprisingly Dull

Chapter Twelve: Ghosts Can Be Surprisingly Dull

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The next day, Ron ambushed Harry right outside of the Great Hall.

"How could you?" he demanded, looking betrayed.

"I'm sure that I could better answer your question if I knew what you were talking about," Harry said diplomatically.

"How could you get sorted into Slytherin?" Ron demanded. "You know how I feel about that house."

"Actually, I really don't," Harry said apologetically. "But I take it you don't like it?"

"Slytherin is the evil house," Ron explained. "Everyone knows that any dark wizard that ever went to Hogwarts was in Slytherin."

"What about Peter Pettigrew?" Harry retorted, crossing his arms. "He was a secret Death Eater, a traitor, and he told You-Know-Who where my parents and I were thus leading to their deaths and almost leading to mine. And he was a friend of theirs!"

"Oh, right. I forgot about him, actually," Ron admitted. He quickly rallied. "Well…every dark wizard _except Peter Pettigrew_ that went to Hogwarts was in Slytherin."

"I really doubt that," Harry argued. "I mean, what are the odds that Pettigrew was the only dark wizard to have ever not come from Slytherin?"

"Since he was, I'd say those odds are pretty damn good," Ron replied.

"That sounds incredibly unlikely," Harry said frankly.

Ron shrugged. "And yet it happened."

"Unless you've got a list of every dark wizard that ever gone to Hogwarts as well as their former house then you really can't say that it's _never_ happened," Harry insisted.

"Well, I can't think of any other dark wizards that weren't in Slytherin," Ron tried. "That has to count for something."

"Ron, you didn't even remember Pettigrew so I don't think what you can remember is good enough evidence," Harry said gently.

"It is for me," Ron said stubbornly.

"And what about those that were dark, not in Slytherin, but never caught?" Harry demanded. "If it hadn't been for my godfather, no one ever would have known about Pettigrew's treachery."

"I have too much faith in the wizarding court system to believe that that's a serious issue," Ron announced. "Besides, what's the point in being _secretly_ evil? You really have to cut down on all your evil activities and have to spend a lot of time pretending to be good. If I were ever going to be Slytherin, I'd flaunt it."

"I think you mean 'evil'," Harry corrected.

Ron shrugged again. "Same difference."

"It's really not-" Harry started to say.

"Fine," Ron interrupted, "if you won't acknowledge that every single non-Pettigrew dark wizard was a Slytherin, can you at least acknowledge that the rumors came from somewhere?"

"That seems fair," Harry agreed.

"Thus, _most_ dark wizards ever since Hogwarts founding came from Slytherin," Ron concluded triumphantly.

"I'm not sure I'd go that far," Harry disagreed.

"Then where do all the rumors come from?" Ron challenged.

"Probably from the fact that the most recent Dark Lord was a Pureblood fanatic and since Slytherin's traditionally been a house more focused on blood purity than others, a lot of You-Know-Who's supporters were recruited from there," Harry theorized.

"Isn't that the same thing as saying they joined him because they were evil?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not really. Had You-Know-Who wanted to kill all Purebloods to make more room for Muggleborns then I assure you that he would have had to have recruited from outside of Slytherin."

"But he _didn't_," Ron pointed out.

"That's not really how hypotheticals work, Ron," Harry told him.

"All I know is that if all these Slytherins are going evil and all these non-Slytherins _aren't_ then you really have to ask yourself if there might be a common theme," Ron replied. "Something that these evil people might have in common. Such as, I don't know, the fact that they were all in Slytherin."

Harry couldn't believe it. "Are you seriously trying to say that you think Slytherin is the evil house?"

"Absolutely," Ron said, looking pleased that Harry had finally gotten the message.

"Why in the world Dumbledore create an evil house?" Harry inquired. "I mean, we've got a brave house, a smart house, a loyal and hard-working house, and then…an evil house? One of these things is not like the others."

"Well, he didn't want the evil kids to be with the non-evil kids," Ron reasoned. "They'd probably be a bad influence."

"Ron, while I'm willing to admit that by the time we graduate some people might be evil, I highly doubt that they're going to be evil when they're _eleven_," Harry told him.

"Damien was," Ron countered.

"Damien?" Harry repeated. "You mean from the Omen?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Fred and George saw it and described it to me. It didn't really make a lot of sense but one thing I definitely realized was that that Damien kid was pretty evil even at five."

"You _do_ realize that that was fictional, right?" Harry asked.

"And yet there can still be evil children out there. Like in your new house, for instance," Ron said, turning the conversation back to its original point. "Speaking of, I can't believe you were sorted there!"

"Ron, we just met yesterday," Harry pointed out. "Was I really supposed to let your irrational hatred of Slytherin influence where I wanted to be sorted?"

"No," Ron admitted. "You should let my completely rational hatred of Slytherin affect where you wanted to be sorted."

Harry sighed internally, realizing that he wasn't going to win this. "It's not like I asked the Hat to put me in Slytherin, you know."

"Did you ask it not to?" Ron asked him.

"Well…no," Harry replied.

"I had such hope for you yesterday," Ron said mournfully.

"Don't tell me you've written me off as being evil twelve hours after getting sorted into Slytherin," Harry said, feeling a headache coming on.

"Well…" Ron considered it. "Maybe not just yet. But it's practically inevitable now so if you want to avoid being evil you'll have to put an almost superhuman effort into it and spend all your time with non-Slytherins."

"Because of course free will plays no part in whether or not you turn evil," Harry muttered sarcastically.

"Well, well, what is this?" Draco drawled from behind Harry before Ron could respond. "The Weasel sulking about the fact that we got Potter and he didn't?"

"I bet you'd just love to turn Harry evil," Ron growled.

"Oh, please. Throwing around words like good and evil to make yourself feel better about the fact that you're barely Pureblood really isn't fooling anyone," Draco sneered.

Someone grabbed his arm and Harry glanced over to see the blonde girl from the day before – Daphne – leading him into the Great Hall. "Let's just go. Those two will be at it for ages."

"You're probably right," Harry agreed.

"You're Harry Potter," Daphne said as they walked towards the Slytherin table together.

"Or so I've been told," Harry replied.

"I saw you talking to Draco last night. Since he's known all of us forever and you've been out of the country, I assume he gave you the run-down?" Daphne asked him.

"Sort of," Harry confirmed, reaching the table and taking the seat across from her.

"What did he tell you about me?" Daphne wanted to know. "That I'm eccentric?"

"Something like that," Harry agreed. "He didn't elaborate."

"It's not like it's any big secret," Daphne said, shaking her head in mild annoyance, "even if everyone insists on treating it like one."

"Then what happened?" Harry inquired.

"Three summers ago my cousin ran off with a Muggleborn," Daphne explained. "That would be enough to scandalize some people even though it's not like that's never happened before. No, the real 'travesty' is that we haven't kicked her out of the family."

"For what?" Harry asked blankly. "He's not a serial killer or anything, is he?"

Daphne shook her head again. "No, just a Muggleborn. We rarely see her since she moved to Italy but to hear some of the others talk about it, we buried the remains of our murdered squib children in the garden."

Harry made a face, disgusted. "Do people really do that?"

"Not so much anymore," Daphne replied. "Though in the past, those squibs would be lucky to get that."

* * *

Their first class was, to Harry's disappointment, History of Magic. Hogwarts was a big school that refused to stay consistent but Gilderoy had taken him there a few times over the summer so he'd have some experience finding his way around…which he also wasn't supposed to talk about so he'd look more impressive in the eyes of his peers.

"I've heard this class is really dull," Tracey remarked as they waited for their teacher to come in. "But I'm not sure I believe that. I mean, it's taught by a _ghost_. How can that possibly be boring?"

"It's taught by a ghost that obviously has nothing better to do with its time than teach history," Theodore pointed out. "And being a ghost isn't going to make someone exciting after they died if they were already pretty boring during life."

"If he's so boring then why would he still be allowed to teach here?" Tracey challenged.

"Aside from the fact that it's cheaper to have a ghost professor you don't have to pay," Blaise spoke up, "he's got to have tenure by now which makes firing him tricky."

"Plus, Dumbledore clearly doesn't care about the quality of education his students are getting," Theodore added.

"Oh, give it up, Theodore," Pansy said tiredly. "We all know that Dumbledore is a hopeless Muggle-lover but if weren't also at least semi-interested in insuring we get a quality education then our parents would have spent the extra money to send us to Durmstrang."

"If Dumbledore were at least semi-interested in insuring that we get a quality education then he'd abolish the Defense Against the Dark Arts class and establish a new class with a new name but a similar curriculum," Theodore disagreed. "Forty-five teachers in forty-five years is not only an embarrassment but also hardly ensuring we even get a _consistent_ education in that subject, never mind a quality one."

"I don't think it would be that easy to break the curse," Daphne opined. "I mean, if it were then someone probably would have tried it."

"I have heard nothing of any attempt," Draco informed them. "Not to say that Theodore's right, just that we don't know that he's wrong."

"Oh, so now the curse isn't just a conspiracy theory?" Theodore demanded. "It's good to know these things are only ridiculous when _I_ think them."

"Well," Harry spoke up. "Forty-five consecutive years of one-shot teachers does make a compelling case."

"If Dumbledore cared about our education then he'd find a way to get rid of a useless ghost teacher," Theodore continued. "Tenure be damned, Dumbledore's been the headmaster longer than there's been a curse on the DADA job so he's had time to work something out. And if he really cared, he'd stop putting us with the Gryffindors during potions."

"While I agree that the less time spent with the Gryffindors the better," Millicent began, "I don't see what that has to do with quality education."

"Potions are dangerous and I'll bet you anything one of those idiots will try to make us look bad by throwing something in our cauldrons and quite possibly killing us all," Theodore responded. "And for the record, if for any reason one of us feels the need to make a Gryffindor look bad, make sure it won't result in anyone dying, okay?"

"Even if it's a Gryffindor?" Pansy asked him.

Blaise shuddered. "Think of all the witnesses!"

Just then, Professor Binns glided into the room. "Welcome, class. Today we're going to begin the first of our forty-part series of lectures on the goblin wars…"

* * *

While Professor Binns hadn't even bothered taking attendance (something that had the Slytherins agree that, excluding Crabbe and Goyle, they would each take turns being the only one to go to the class and take notes), the other teachers tended to have a reaction to getting to Harry's name.

Professor Flitwick gave an excited squeak and fell off the chair he had been standing on. McGonagall was more restrained but even she gave Harry a small smile when reading his name off. They had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Zacharias had spent most of the first class throwing little clots of dirt at Harry who had tried his best to ignore the other boy. What was he supposed to do, tell on him?

Sinistra positively beamed at Harry when his name was called which made him feel a little guilty for hating her class. It wasn't her fault, by any means, and she seemed very nice it was just…Harry liked looking at the stars but he disliked getting woken up fifteen minutes to midnight when he had class the next day to go stare at the night sky. Why it was even remotely important that he know the constellations was beyond him but given that they were required for five years meant he had to be quiet and learn them. It was inconceivable, really, that Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy were electives and freaking _Astronomy_ was mandatory.

Harry was just on his way to his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class when Dumbledore appeared from out of nowhere. "Ah, Harry. Mind if I have a word?"

"Of course not, sir," Harry said, a little surprised. Surely he wasn't about to start trying to convince Harry to go live with the Dursleys less than a week into the school year?

"So how are you liking Hogwarts so far?" Dumbledore asked him.

Harry shrugged. "History of Magic is a little boring and I don't like having a midnight class but other than that I'm really liking it."

"And how do you like Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked. "Is he your favorite teacher?"

"No but-" Harry started to say.

"Oh, Harry. Just give him a chance and I'm sure that you'll realize that you misjudged him," Dumbledore earnestly cut him off.

"I haven't really judged him one way or the other at all," Harry replied. "I haven't even spoken to him. I don't have Potions until tomorrow."

Dumbledore blinked. "I see. Well, what do you suppose the chances are of him becoming your favorite teacher after tomorrow?"

"To be honest, I have no idea," Harry answered. "Maybe you should ask me after I actually take his class."

Dumbledore nodded. "Oh, I absolutely will do so. Perhaps I should give you a bit of background information on your father and Professor Snape."

"I already know that he and my father didn't really like each other," Harry offered, wondering why in the world the Headmaster would take the time to give him ancient history on a schoolboy rivalry.

"Oh, it wasn't just that. They absolutely hated each other, true, not unlike you and Zacharias Smith," Dumbledore told him.

"I don't actually hate Zacharias," Harry protested. "He just really doesn't like me."

"No need to worry that I'll think any less of you for disliking your rival," Dumbledore assured him. "It's just a normal part of the Hogwarts experience."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and told himself that it wasn't worth it.

"One day, your father did something Professor Snape could never forgive," Dumbledore said dramatically.

He seemed to be waiting for something so Harry prompted him. "Yes?"

"_He saved his life_," Dumbledore revealed.

"…He what?" Harry asked. "How did that happen?"

Dumbledore coughed. "Oh, well, the details really aren't that important. Just know that your father saved Professor Snape at great risk to himself."

"That just sounds a little unlikely," Harry said honestly.

Dumbledore frowned at him. "Harry, I don't know what Gilderoy Lockhart has been telling you but your father was a good man."

"It's not that I don't believe he would save someone's life!" Harry quickly corrected. "It's just that if I didn't like someone and they saved my life, especially at great risk to their own, I would probably get over a great deal of my dislike. Are you sure there's not more to the story here?"

"Nothing really, just a few background details that detract from the overall message of your father saving Professor Snape," Dumbledore said vaguely. "So don't worry if he's a little abrasive at first and acts like you are your father reborn. Just be patient, kind, intelligent, modest, and just overall a veritable saint and I'm sure you'll win him over in no time and he'll be like a second father to you."

"Third father, really," Harry pointed out. "If we're counting my biological father, that is."

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore agreed reluctantly. "Well, hurry along now. You don't want to be late to class, do you?"

Honestly, Gilderoy probably wouldn't care if it meant he could make a dramatic entrance. As he headed off to class, Harry resolved to put that strange conversation out of his mind. Since when was he looking for a mentor, anyway? Maybe he should ask Gilderoy more about 'the Hogwarts experience'?

Review Please!


	13. Slytherins Do Not Fear Pretests

Chapter Thirteen: Slytherins Do Not Fear Pretests.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: I have officially changed the secondary category to parody so those of you expecting something serious should probably know that you really won't be getting that.

Harry walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts five minutes late to find that class hadn't started yet.

"Ah, Harry," Gilderoy greeted him cheerfully, not bothered in the slightest at his tardiness. "I should have known you'd want to make an entrance. Take a seat."

Harry took the empty seat next to Daphne as Gilderoy started taking attendance.

"Is he going to not start class until you show up _every_ time?" she whispered to him. "Because if that's the case, you really should think about making a habit of that."

"Sorry, Daphne, but if I do that _too_ often then my father will probably stage an intervention as I am too young to be that desperate for fame," Harry whispered back.

Daphne winced. "Getting lectured about not being so interested in fame by Gilderoy Lockhart? I can see why you'd want to avoid that."

Harry would have been offended if it weren't for the fact that Gilderoy was quite open about how much he loved fame. He believed that if you did something worthy of fame (or at least other people thought you did) then there was no shame in thoroughly enjoying that fame, after all.

"Still, I think you should do it anyway. You know, for the greater good," Daphne quickly rallied.

Harry stifled a laugh. "What am I, a _Hufflepuff_?"

Daphne gasped in faux horror. "I would _never_ accuse you of that! In fact, I'd be hesitant to even accuse an actual Hufflepuff of that."

"And you sound like Dumbledore," Harry accused. It wasn't like he disliked Dumbledore anymore than he really thought that the Hufflepuffs were an embarrassment but he was quickly learning that taking jabs at both was just part of the Slytherin culture and since it was kind of fun and didn't seem to be hurting anybody, why not take part in it?

"You take that back!" Daphne exclaimed a little too loudly, causing those around them to glance their way.

"You used the words 'for the greater good'," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, well so did Grindelwald," Daphne pointed out.

"And you'd rather remind people of an evil wizard than Dumbledore?" Harry asked skeptically.

Daphne raised an eyebrow at him.

"Point taken."

"Harry Potter," Gilderoy said, having finally reached his name.

Harry looked up at his father with a smile. "Present."

"Hogwarts is quite lucky to have such a celebrity attending," Gilderoy remarked. "I'm sure you'll live up to all the hype." He quickly finished with the role call and started passing out tests.

"What's this?" Draco asked, horrified. "You can't give us a test; it's our first class!"

"It could always be a pre-test," Tracey pointed out.

"But we know _nothing_," Draco protested.

"Speak for yourself," Daphne told him. "Some of us actually read the 'textbooks' over the summer."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but you're eccentric so that's to be expected."

"Honestly, what does not disowning a family member have to do with being studious?" Daphne asked under her breath.

"I think Draco just doesn't want to admit that he probably should have read the books," Harry consoled her.

"Mr. Malfoy, this isn't anything hard, don't worry. You were instructed to have my books read before the term started and I just believe that it's unfair to expect students to do so much work without getting any credit for it," Gilderoy explained. "Therefore, this is a reasonably simple test on the material that I'm sure you all have read."

By the looks on everyone's faces, only a little over half the class had actually read the books.

Obliviously – whether really so or not was up for debate – Gilderoy continued. "Now, I know that some Gryffindors might have thought that they needn't do the assignment but I know that the other three classes absolutely would have done it. The studious Ravenclaws would want to be prepared, the hard-working Hufflepuffs wouldn't shy away from the effort, and the cunning and ambitious Slytherins would know that if they want to come out on top in life they need to be prepared for whatever situation they find themselves in. In this, case, they have to have read the textbooks."

Those who had actually read the books started looking pleased with themselves while those who hadn't appeared a bit dismayed.

"Harry," Draco hissed. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Read the books?" Harry offered innocently.

"That won't help me now," Draco pointed out.

Harry sighed. "Just remember that his favorite color is lilac and for the rest he probably won't care as long as it's completely flattering."

Draco nodded seriously. "Flattering…I can do that. Very Slytherin, as a matter of fact." Being indirectly accused of not being very Slytherin was clearly not sitting very well with him.

Harry took his test and skimmed the first page. These were all really easy questions. Then again, he might not be the best objective indicator of that given how well he knew the source material. When he had been younger, Gilderoy had often read him his books as a bed-time story. On the one hand, Harry understand why Gilderoy would do that (plus his father had never liked children's books) but on the other…was he _trying_ to turn him into a Gryffindor or something?

Eventually, the tests were all done and Gilderoy quickly marked them. "Oh, these are very good scores. Mr. Malfoy, I've never told anyone that a secret ambition of mine is to make my adopted son, our savior, into a competent defender of the light who will live up to my legacy so congratulations on being able to deduce that from the little time we've spent together."

Draco just smirked at that, having apparently taken Harry's advice _very_ seriously.

"And Harry, of course, is the only one with full marks although Miss Pansy Parkinson got close, only missing one," Gilderoy announced. "Ten points to Slytherin for you both; you should be very proud."

Pansy blushed slightly and Harry had to wonder if she was one of those girls he had seen in the past week – like Hermione, though she'd never admit it – who had a crush on his father.

God knew he would never EVER ask her about it.

* * *

Zacharias cornered him as he was on his way to lunch.

"Stop ignoring me!" he ordered, crossing his arms and glaring at Harry.

"I'm not ignoring you," Harry told him patiently. "In fact, I don't think I've ever ignored you. My apologies if I gave you that impression."

Zacharias' glare deepened. "Don't apologize!"

"Has my apology somehow offended you?" Harry asked, surprised. "Normally apologies have just the opposite effect. Unless, of course, you don't think I mean it. Is that the case?"

"No, I do think you mean it and that's just the problem," Zacharias complained.

"I don't follow," Harry admitted.

"You're not supposed to apologize to me! You're supposed to say that you'd be paying attention to me if I were worth your time – which I totally am – or call me stupid for thinking that!" Zacharias cried out.

Harry blinked. "Why in the world would I do that?"

"Because you're my rival!" Zacharias said as if it were obvious.

Harry barely managed to hold back a groan. Not this nonsense again. He was really starting to wonder if he should have just hid in the bathroom the entire train ride so he wouldn't meet anybody. Sure it would have been boring but at least it would have been over in one afternoon and not be annoying him a week later and on into the future indefinitely. "Don't I get a choice in this? Can you just declare me your rival without any input from me?"

"What's that supposed to mean, huh? You don't think I'm good enough to be your rival?" Zacharias demanded angrily. Strangely, there appeared to be some satisfaction in his eyes.

"Let's set aside your worthiness to be my rival for a moment, shall we?" Harry suggested. "Is it fair for you to just declare me your rival and it's supposed to be this mutual thing now? If I decided to make, say, that Justin Finch-Fletchley guy my rival then would he have no choice but to be rivals with me now?"

"Of course not," Zacharias replied promptly.

"Because one person can't just declare another random person their rival and expect that to hold any water?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No, because you didn't meet him on the train and so the classic rivalry conditions were not met," Zacharias explained. "And also because you already have a rival: me. A person can't have more than one rival, you know. All of our friends may dislike each other and be hostile towards you or me but they're not the rivals."

"So if I had declared Crabbe my rival before you declared me your rival then we would be locked into a rivalry and you'd be out of luck?" Harry inquired.

Zacharias made a face. "Well…technically, yes, but he seems rather…almost too stupid to function and so it would be a pretty fail rivalry."

"I think fail rivalries sound like my favorite kind," Harry remarked.

Zacharias' eyes bulged. "What? But what's the point in even having a rivalry if you're not going to do it properly?"

"The minute I figure out what, exactly, is the point in having a rivalry at all, I'll look into the point in having one that you don't do properly," Harry replied.

"It's part of the-" Zacharias started to say.

"Part of the Hogwarts experience, I know," Harry cut him off tiredly. "That still doesn't mean that I want a rivalry or see the point of it. And I definitely don't want to be forced into a rivalry against my will."

"No, I can imagine that you wouldn't," Zacharias said thoughtfully. "In fact, that must make you pretty angry, right?"

"I suppose so," Harry said cautiously, wondering where he was going with this.

"In fact, it must make you so angry that you'd resent me, right?" Zacharias pressed eagerly. "So much so that a rivalry could, in fact, spring up from this?"

Harry stared at him. "You think that we should have a rivalry over the fact that I don't want to be your rival? That's kind of messed up."

"Yeah, well so is having a rival who wants nothing to do with you," Zacharias complained. "It's embarrassing!"

Harry thought about pointing out that since Zacharias was the one in Hufflepuff, he didn't really have room to talk but realized that that would just make Zacharias' insane plan to make them rivals all the close to coming true.

"I'm sorry you feel that way and for inconveniencing you," Harry finally said diplomatically. "It was not my intention."

As he walked away, he could hear Zacharias screaming in frustration behind him. Maybe his wasn't the most epic or in-your-face way of dealing with his so-called 'rival' but his method did seem to be far more effective than anything else could have been.

* * *

Harry didn't really like the dungeons, which was a shame because that was around where the Slytherin common room was. Fortunately, the common room and dormitories were a lot warmer than the dungeon had been but that didn't help him at all when it came to potions.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to expect from Snape. He'd been at Hogwarts for about a week now and yet he hadn't spoken to his head of house once. He'd been warned by multiple sources that Snape wouldn't like him because of his father but he really had to wonder just how obvious that would be. Surely the man was capable of some professionalism, right?

Harry hadn't gotten the chance to see much of Hermione and Neville, being in a different house than them, and so he had made certain to sit by them. Draco had said something about how he wasn't about to let Harry go off unsupervised with _Gryffindors of all people_ and so he had sat near them, too. He didn't seem to mind too much, particularly as Ron had turned an interesting purple color the minute Draco had sat down. Draco and Neville seemed to get on alright so Harry really just hoped that Draco wouldn't say something stupid to Hermione.

Snape paused when he got to Harry's name on the attendance. "Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new…celebrity."

If Zacharias had been in that class, he would have undoubtedly decided on the spot that Snape was his new favorite teacher. As it was, nobody – even Ron, concerned as he was about Harry's house – particularly disliked him and so they all just stared up at Snape in bemusement.

"You are here to learn the subtle science, and exact art of potion-making," Snape announced when he was done with the role call. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach. Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

It looked like Gilderoy was right, reading the textbook really did pay off.

"A sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the draught of living death, sir," Harry replied promptly. He wasn't sure there was any way to win this…if, in fact, it was a 'this' at all. It was entirely possible that Snape had decided to quiz a sample of the class or everyone on the book and it was just a coincidence that he went to Harry first. Just the same, given what he'd heard it would be foolish to just assume that was the case. Still, he'd heard that Snape favored Slytherins quite a bit so if Snape started taking points that would be a good sign that Harry was in for a very long seven years. Be respectful couldn't possibly misfire, right? Well…unless Snape thought he was mocking him.

Snape didn't acknowledge Harry's words. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

So clearly this wasn't a case of quizzing the class. Unless they were all going to be given multiple questions? If he was given multiple questions, everyone should have to have a turn. "In the stomach of a goat, sir." The obvious answer would be 'in an apothecary' but somehow he didn't quite think that was what Snape was looking for.

"And it's function?" Snape pressed.

"It will save you from most poisons, sir," Harry replied.

Snape was frowning at this. Clearly he hadn't expected Harry to actually know this. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

"There is no difference, sir. They are the same plant and another name for it is aconite," Harry answered.

"Why aren't you writing this all down?" Snape demanded of the class, who quickly scurried to do as he asked. "Very well, that is adequate, Potter. Twenty points to Slytherin."

Twenty points for 'adequate'? That was odd. Snape had probably been torn between his warring desires to favor Slytherin and to apparently not like him and compromised.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Harry, but I don't think Professor Snape likes you," Hermione said quietly.

"Five points from Gryffindor for talking during a lecture, Miss Granger," Snape snapped.

And so it appeared he didn't. Still, he was apparently in more favor with Snape than the Gryffindors which, while not really saying a lot, at least said something.

"Potter, why are you writing with that Muggle contraption?" Snape demanded suddenly.

Harry looked down at the pen in his hand. None of his other teachers had commented on it. "Muggle pens are easier to use and more efficient than quills, sir."

"So you want to take the easy way out?" Snape asked suspiciously.

Absolutely. "No, sir. I just thought that if I had to spend less effort in writing the notes then I would be better able to focus on the material I am taking notes on."

Snape hesitated. "Very well, I'll allow it for now. If you don't get at least an E on the first written test then I will give you a detention and you'll use the approved writing materials."

Well, on the one hand he could still use pens. On the other…it just occurred to him that detentions (which were much worse than house point losses) could still be given to him without hurting Slytherin at all.

Suddenly, Potions seemed a lot more daunting.

Review Please!


	14. Potions Safety

Chapter Fourteen: Potions Safety

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: The problem with anonymous reviewers is that it's _really_ difficult to get back to them. One, in particular, got my attention so I'm addressing it here:

The point of this story is to be funny. If you don't find it funny, I don't really see the point of 'sticking with it for a few more chapters' because it's going to stay the same style of humor. You can do what you like but please remember that I'm not trying to mislead anyone here. If this isn't the kind of thing you like, that's probably not going to change.

And the reason Harry keeps deciding to ask his guardian about things he doesn't understand (regardless of the fact he's almost a teenager) is simply because he doesn't want anyone else to know that he doesn't understand these things.

"Everyone, partner up," Snape ordered. "We're going to start with a simple potion to cure boils. How your first potion goes will likely be an indication of your future in this class."

Daphne came out of nowhere to stand in front of Hermione. "Hermione Granger, will you be my partner?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Oh, um, sure. I'm sorry, I don't remember your name…"

"Daphne Greengrass," Daphne introduced. "And don't worry about it. It's only the first week."

"What did I tell you?" Draco asked, shaking his head ruefully at what he clearly considered to be a perfect example of his point. "Quite eccentric."

"And smart," Harry remarked. "Hermione's memorized all her textbooks; she's bound to be good at this."

"I'm not sure that would make it worth it to partner with a…well," Draco said doubtfully, apparently rethinking whatever he was going to say. Not like Harry couldn't guess. "But never mind that. Harry, will you-"

"Dibs on Harry," Neville interrupted.

" 'Dibs'?" Draco repeated, looking as if he very much doubted that that was a real word.

"It means Harry is totally my partner," Neville said triumphantly.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Harry asked with mock annoyance.

"If by 'get a say in this' you mean 'agree to be my partner' then that sounds like an acceptable compromise," Neville said cheerfully.

Harry laughed. "Alright then, I'll be your partner."

"Wait, why do you want to partner with Harry anyway?" Draco demanded. "Other than the fact that I wanted to do the same thing."

"Not everything is about _you_, Malfoy," Ron said rudely.

"How very wrong you are, Weasley," Draco sniffed.

"I suppose Neville's better than Malfoy," Ron said grudgingly. "You'll help keep Harry from accidentally turning evil, won't you?"

"I'll do my best," Neville said solemnly.

"I figured that I'd stand a better chance of passing if I partnered with a Slytherin," Neville explained. "And be honest: how would you have reacted to me asking you to partner with you?"

"Not well," Draco admitted. "But come on, who am I supposed to partner with now?"

"So not my problem," Neville said with a smirk.

Draco's eyes darted desperately across the room only to discover, to his horror, that Ron was the only other person who hadn't gotten a partner.

"Professor, are you _sure_ we can't work by ourselves?" Draco asked hopefully.

"There aren't enough cauldrons for that, Mr. Malfoy, and I'd rather not waste the ingredients," Snape replied, not looking up from the instructions he was writing on the board. If Draco had been a Gryffindor, Harry wondered just how many points he was likely to lose.

"But my partner would have to be a _Gryffindor_," Draco complained.

"Then I would recommend that before our next class you arrange to partner with someone from your own house," Snape suggested.

Draco glanced speculatively over at Crabbe and Goyle, who had also partnered up, for a moment before shaking his head. "Not worth it."

"I can't believe I have to be your partner," Ron grumbled.

"Yeah, well I can't believe I have to be _your_ partner!" Draco shot back.

"This is the much-celebrated rivalry at work?" Harry asked, bemused after Neville got back from gathering the ingredients.

"Apparently so," Neville said wistfully. "I wish I had a rival."

"You can always get one, I guess," Harry said, trying to be supportive despite not understanding the desire to do this in the slightest.

"The problem is that I didn't actually meet _anybody_ on the train," Neville said despondently.

"Did Ron and Draco really meet on the train?" Harry asked, surprised. "They seem really…_enthusiastic_, I guess would be the right word."

"Their father's don't like each other either and they're both big believers in house pride as well coming from families that are traditionally from rival houses," Neville explained. "But yeah, believe it or not they had never met until the train. The Weasleys and the Malfoys don't really travel in the same circles."

"And yet the Longbottoms travel in both?" Harry inquired.

Neville shrugged. "My family has had its share of Hufflepuffs, let's just say."

"You know, I really don't think the fact that I'm in Slytherin is going to help you much with Snape," Harry confessed. "He kind of seems to hate me."

Neville shrugged again. "Oh, well. I was actually going to partner with Hermione but then Daphne came up and I remembered that you had _also_ memorized the Potions' textbook. The Snape thing would have just been an added bonus."

Harry snorted. "Why aren't you a Slytherin again?"

"No true Slytherin is ever actually sorted into Slytherin," Neville said flippantly. "Or at least that's what I always tell Draco. You should try it; it's hilarious how upset he gets. Snape."

Harry was just about to ask what that meant when he noticed Snape, who had been making the rounds and criticizing everyone, was getting closer to them.

"Potter, have you ever actually held a knife before?" Snape demanded. "Put your hand farther up the handle; you're going to cut yourself."

Harry, who had been managing just fine, attempted to adjust his grip.

Snape opened his mouth – either to continue to criticize Harry or to move on to Neville – when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Ron and Draco had somehow managed to melt their cauldron and everything within a two-foot radius of them.

Within seconds, everyone was standing on their stools in an attempt to avoid the potion (and hoping that the potion didn't just melt their stools and send them toppling over). Ron and Draco had been liberally splashed when their cauldron had first collapsed so everyone knew that they would be covered in painful-looking boils if any of the potion got on them.

"Idiot boy," Snape snarled at Ron before taking out his wand and, regardless of what he'd said in his opening speech, waving it to vanish the potion. "What did you do?"

Ron stared at him defiantly but said nothing. Draco was similarly tight-lipped.

"Well?" Snape demanded. "Anyone?"

Theodore languidly raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Nott?" Snape asked.

"Draco and Weasley were taking turns tossing their ingredients into the potion when the other wasn't looking," Theodore explained.

"I see," Snape said, looking furious. "That's five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley."

"But what about him?" Ron cried out. "It wasn't just me!"

"Make that six points," Snape said silkily. "Now, somebody take those two to the Hospital Wing."

* * *

Later that day, Harry was sitting outside with Neville and Hermione and silently congratulated himself for surviving his first week of Hogwarts.

"So why did Daphne want to partner up with you so badly?" Neville asked curiously. "Especially since she didn't seem to really know who you were."

"Oh, that," Hermione said, looking a little bemused. "It's the strangest thing. I was standing in between platforms nine and ten and I happened to ask Daphne how to get to the right one. I could tell she was a witch, of course, because of her owl. Therefore, we met at the right time."

Harry closed his eyes. "You're _kidding_."

"I'm really not," Hermione assured him.

"And here I was thinking that Daphne seemed too sensible for that sort of thing. I guess you never can tell," Harry mused.

"She is," Hermione disagreed. "Or at least…I think so. Daphne told me all about how big rivalries were at Hogwarts but how she had neither the time nor the inclination to take part in one but she met a lot of people on the train and so she might be trapped in one at any time. Since the same thing could happen to me and I didn't seem like the rivalry type, we could protect ourselves by becoming each other's rival and then not really doing anything."

"Lame," Neville complained.

"I think it's brilliant," Harry disagreed.

"Yeah, well, you would. That is _such _a Slytherin thing to do," Neville accused.

"And what's wrong with that?" Harry asked defensively. "It's hardly evil no matter what I'm sure Ron can imagine."

"I'm sure we'll find out once he gets out of the Hospital Wing later today," Hermione said dryly.

"I just don't understand why anyone would do that," Neville said, shaking his head in disappointment. "And you're even a Gryffindor, Hermione!"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Hermione challenged. "That I can't do smart things? Remember what house _you're_ in, Neville."

"That's not what I meant," Neville claimed. "It's just that Gryffindors are supposed to love fun and adventure and so why would you purposefully cheat yourself out of a rivalry? Unless you were tricking her into making you her fail rival so you could be her real rival and there was nothing she could do about it…but that's so very _Slytherin_."

"And thus _awesome_," Harry spoke up.

"Turn evil on your own time, Harry," Neville said flippantly.

"I agree with Harry," Hermione told them. "This whole 'rivalry' thing seems really stupid and a waste of time and energy. I've seen Zacharias around Harry and I don't want to deal with that kind of thing. This plan of Daphne's seems like the perfect solution and it will benefit both of us since she doesn't want a real rival either."

"But think of all the fun things you'll be missing out on!" Neville urged her.

"Tell that to Harry," Hermione advised.

Neville spared him a quick glance. "I would but his rival's a _Hufflepuff_."

"Why that entire house doesn't all hate us is beyond me," Harry remarked, laughing.

"Who's to say they don't?" Neville asked mysteriously before making a face. "Damn, I sound like Theodore."

"The most rivalry-oriented action I've seen – aside from Zacharias complaining about Harry – is what happened today in Potions and if that's what a rivalry is like then frankly I want no part in it," Hermione said heatedly. "They could have been killed and they could have killed other people. They probably deserved what happened to them but what if someone else had gotten hit? What if the injuries were more serious?"

"That wasn't a rivalry thing," Neville said patiently. "That was a 'two people who happen to be in a rivalry were proving to be absolute morons' thing."

"But would it have happened if they weren't rivals?" Hermione asked pointedly.

Neville snorted. "Honestly, Hermione? Probably. They still wouldn't like each other and if, for whatever reason, they thought it was okay to try to get us all killed if they were rivals then they'd probably do so without it."

"I don't know, I think Hermione has a point," Harry declared.

Neville rolled his eyes. "I am shocked by this. Truly, I am."

"I still can't believe that they'd be so irresponsible and just plain stupid, no matter what the reason," Hermione said, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "I mean…there was a set of instructions for a reason and they're both Purebloods so they don't even have that excuse. Did they really think they were such experts that they could randomly toss things in and it would be fine, even if they didn't know the other was doing the same thing?"

"Don't think about it too much," Harry advised her. "You'll just give yourself a headache."

"I can't help it," Hermione admitted, sighing. "I'm going to give Ron the biggest lecture of his life whenever I next see him." She looked pointedly at the other two.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Hermione. I'm not really the lecturing type."

"Neither am I," Neville remarked. "But don't worry. I'll just let him know that I, a Gryffindor, disapproves of his reckless and thoughtless actions and he'll be kicking himself over it for days. Far more effective than any lecture I could give."

* * *

"So, Harry, am I right in assuming that you have, by this point, had Potions class with Professor Snape?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

Harry jumped. Where did he keep coming from? "Yes, I have, sir."

"And what did you think of the experience?" Dumbledore inquired. "I'm afraid that I may have been a bit too leading with my questions last time."

"I learned a valuable lesson about following the instructions and not messing around after Ron and Draco ended up in the Hospital Wing," Harry said slowly.

Dumbledore looked mildly amused. "Yes, I heard about that as well. No permanent damage this time and hopefully they've learned that lesson too so there won't _be_ a next time."

"One can only hope," Harry agreed, albeit dubiously. He hadn't seen Ron but Draco, at least, was convinced it was all Ron's fault and his own actions had had nothing to do with it. That didn't really sound like he was taking responsibility for his own actions but perhaps Neville hadn't gotten around to talking to him about it yet.

"Anything else happen?" Dumbledore pressed. "I'm sure that the accident was the most exciting part but that doesn't mean it's all that occurred."

"Professor Snape asked me some questions from the textbook and then gave me twenty points for answering them correctly," Harry revealed.

Dumbledore beamed. "Did he now? I had hoped but I was never sure and after…well, suffice to say that this is very good news indeed, Harry."

Harry wasn't stupid. He knew that Snape didn't like him and was liable to treat him like he was a Gryffindor or something. Since Snape was a teacher who had been there long enough to get tenure, there really wasn't much he could actively do against the man, particularly if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in detention. There was one thing that he thought he might try, one thing that was continuing to work wonders on Zacharias Smith.

"Oh, yes," Harry said earnestly. "I don't think he liked the Gryffindors very much but he was willing to let me use some muggle school supplies because they helped me take better notes. I have to say that though it's a bit soon to tell, I think Professor Snape might actually be my favorite teacher. My father doesn't count, of course, because I'll always be biased where he's concerned."

Dumbledore looked positively moved. "Your very favorite teacher did you say?"

Harry nodded seriously. "I did say that and I'm sure that, with him being the head of my house and all, we'll only grow closer as the year goes on and during the next six years. I'm really very lucky to have him and I'm glad I ended up in Slytherin."

So maybe he was laying it on a little thick. Dumbledore didn't seem suspicious, though, quite the opposite. Snape would _not_ be happy if and when he found out but he wouldn't be able to openly do anything. After all, being someone's favorite teacher was supposed to be a _good_ thing and no one would let him get away with trying to punish Harry for that. Of course, now he had a feeling he was going to see firsthand just how flimsy a reason Snape could find for giving detention. He made a mental note to learn to breathe quieter, just in case.

"If you'll excuse me, Harry, I really must be off but it was very lovely talking to you," Dumbledore told Harry before turning to go. "I can't believe I almost fell for those theatrics!"

Harry was starting to worry that Dumbledore had seen right through him when Dumbledore mercifully continued.

"Really 'No matter what happens, I will not become this boy's mentor'…who does he really think he's kidding? Wait until I tell Minerva."

Review Please


	15. Worth It

Chapter Fifteen: Worth It

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: I really don't see Dumbledore as an idiot. He's just inclined to go along with something he sees as harmless if it amuses him or supports what he wants to happen. And why not, after all?

Dumbledore was examining Fawkes closely, trying to guess when the creature would have a Burning Day. Despite the fact that phoenixes were a well-established part of magical lore and it wall relatively common knowledge that he possessed one, it always upset the students (particularly the younger ones) when his pet just burst into flames while they were watching. As such, he tried to arrange it so that he wasn't meeting with any students in his office when it happened.

Snape burst into his office suddenly, his black cloak billowing behind him.

Dumbledore took a moment to admire the theatrical touch the cloak provided (did Snape use magic to get it like that? There was no wind) before he calmly gestured for Snape to take a seat. "Is something the matter, Severus?"

"That would depend on whether you would consider Gilderoy Lockhart coming up to me and telling me that Potter meant that I was his favorite non-relative teacher to be something the matter," Snape said icily.

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Well, I would not consider that something the matter at all. Even if the continued closeness of Lockhart and Harry makes my eventual plan to remove Harry to his biological relations more difficult, the term has only just begun so it's a little soon to start worrying."

"I didn't mean about that," Snape snapped.

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked innocently. He was actually surprised that it had taken Snape an entire week to confront him about the fact that he had been telling everyone about how much Harry had loved Snape's class. Then again, Snape wasn't really one to gossip and no one really wanted to be the one to inform Snape of this newest tidbit. He supposed Lockhart had finally given up waiting for Snape to find out on his own (or assumed that after a week he _had_ to have heard) and absolutely had to qualify Harry's comment.

When Harry had insisted that Snape was his favorite teacher, Dumbledore knew it meant one of three things. It was possible that Harry was, for whatever reason, lying. Lying about who your favorite teacher was to another teacher didn't happen often but sometimes students were trying to suck up and it could be a case of that. Snape could really be Harry's favorite teacher though Snape hadn't gone out of his way to appeal to Harry and Harry just really liked the subject or the sarcasm. That was, in Dumbledore's mind, the most likely scenario given that Snape could stay professional and not make the dislike he claimed to have for Harry known.

Then finally there was the possibility that Snape had immediately taken to Harry and started to become his mentor. Dumbledore rather doubted this one, actually, because while he was quite hopeful that it would happen eventually he knew that Snape was far too stubborn to give in on the very first class period regardless of how he actually felt towards the boy. Whatever the reason was, he had been absolutely truthful when he told everybody that Harry had said Snape was his favorite teacher and it had been such a fun story to tell.

"Why does Lockhart think I'm Potter's favorite teacher?" Snape demanded.

"Why does that man think many of the things he thinks?" Dumbledore retorted. "I, for one, still don't understand what he was thinking taking Harry."

Snape refused to be distracted. "Why did Minerva and Pomona smile knowingly when he asked?"

"They agreed that you were Harry's favorite teacher barring Lockhart?" Dumbledore hazarded a guess.

"And where might they have gotten that idea?" Snape pressed.

"Any number of places, really," Dumbledore said casually. "I didn't ask."

Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if to calm himself. "Did you tell anybody that I was Potter's favorite teacher?"

There really was no way around such a direct question without outright lying, was there? Even if he refused to answer Snape would take that to be practically a confession. And lying was right out as so many people could contradict him without even realizing that he had lied about it. "Yes."

Dumbledore was nearly positive he saw Snape's right eye twitch slightly. "Why?"

"Because Harry told me that you were his favorite teacher," Dumbledore said simply.

There was absolute silence for a moment as Snape processed this. "He…_what_?"

Dumbledore nodded. "He did. I asked him about his first Potions lesson after I was certain that he had actually had it. He told me all about Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley's little mishap."

"Weasley might have gotten himself killed if the ingredients were any more potent," Snape said darkly.

"I understand that Mr. Malfoy was equally involved in the incident," Dumbledore said delicately. He always had to be careful discussing Slytherins with Snape. The fact that he was a former Gryffindor (many, _many_ years ago) only made it worse but Snape always assumed that those not actually in Slytherin who wished to speak to him about his house were persecuting them.

"He wouldn't have done if it Weasley hadn't been involved," Snape insisted, predictably.

"And would Mr. Weasley have done something like that if Mr. Malfoy wasn't involved?" Dumbledore challenged.

"He _is_ a Gryffindor," Snape pointed out wryly.

"Then Harry told me how you gave him twenty points for answering some questions from the textbook," Dumbledore told him.

Snape looked annoyed at this. "Preparedness should always be rewarded if only for the decreased likelihood of one of those dunderheads blowing themselves up." Particularly so when the 'dunderhead' in question was a Slytherin.

"And then he said that you let him use muggle school supplies," Dumbledore continued. "I'm assuming he means paper and pens instead of parchment and quills? Most Muggleborns jump right into the culture but I seem to remember a Miss Lily Evans who did the same thing. She-"

"Enough," Snape cut him off. "I told him that if he did not get an E on his first test then it would be back to proper writing material. I am not unreasonable, Albus."

"Then you won't mind when I say that Harry looks forward to growing closer to you and is pleased to have been sorted into Slytherin?" Dumbledore inquired innocently.

"Of course he's glad to be sorted into Slytherin," Snape said automatically before the rest of what Dumbledore said hit him. "_What_?"

"It really does sound like you're well on your way to becoming Harry's mentor," Dumbledore said, beaming.

Snape's face, already pale, lost a great deal of color. "Absolutely not."

"That's what you said after the feast but I think the facts speak for themselves," Dumbledore said smugly.

"At most you can say I was 'barely civil'," Snape protested. "And barely civil does not a mentor make."

"It is if the mentoree doesn't mind," Dumbledore argued. "It's not the kind of arrangement I'd be satisfied with but if Harry really doesn't mind…"

"You can not force me to mentor _anyone_," Snape snapped.

"It wasn't me who made this decision," Dumbledore replied.

"Potter can't either," Snape continued.

Dumbledore sighed. "I am truly sorry to see that you feel that way."

Snape eyed him suspiciously. "Does this mean that you'll stop attempting to force it?"

"No," Dumbledore answered promptly. "I'm just saddened to see a young boy judged on the basis of parents that he doesn't even remotely remember. But I will accept that it needs to happen on its own. Well…mostly on its own."

"Albus," Snape said warningly.

"You won't even notice a thing!" Dumbledore promised. "Forgive me for asking but…is it healthy for your eye to twitch like that?"

There it was again. Snape really should consider getting that looked into it.

* * *

"Harry, how could you?" Ron demanded the minute Harry came out of the library.

Harry wondered just how long he had been standing there. He, Hermione, and Neville had been doing their homework in the library for the past two hours. Normally, he'd have done it in his common room but Neville and – more to the point – Hermione were in different houses. "Talk about déjà vu. Is this about me having been sorted into Slytherin again? Because I thought we talked about this."

"Do you really think that will _ever_ be settled, Harry?" Neville asked, amused.

"If nothing else, Ron _has_ to let it go once we all graduate," Hermione said reasonably.

Neville snorted. "That's almost adorable."

"This isn't about that!" Ron claimed. He paused. "Well…it sort of is but only a little."

"Is it safe to say that every problem you have with me will in some way involve me being a Slytherin?" Harry asked, resigned.

Ron nodded. "That's a good bet and if it's not, I'll make sure to mention it."

"What is it this time?" Harry inquired.

"You said that-" Ron cut himself off and looked around suspiciously before continuing in a much quieter voice. "You said that _Snape was your favorite teacher_."

"No one's going to attack you for repeating that," Hermione told him, rolling her eyes.

"You never know," Ron disagreed. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because he is?" Harry asked rhetorically, deciding that telling anyone what his real motivation was would be too much of a risk for that information getting back to Snape or Dumbledore. Telling Ron would be a horrible idea either way as he would promptly denounce the plan as Slytherin and therefore unacceptable and he'd start worrying about Harry again. Loudly and frequently.

Ron laughed. "Please, Harry. Snape's _nobody's_ favorite teacher."

"The Slytherins all seem to adore him," Neville pointed out.

"That's different," Ron said after taking a moment to digest that. Apparently he had honestly never noticed this natural result of Snape's blatant favoritism. "They're _Slytherins_."

"So am I," Harry pointed out.

"But you're not a _real_ Slytherin," Ron said dismissively.

"I know that you probably intend that as a compliment but it's _really_ not," Harry told Ron, a bit annoyed.

"I'm just trying to protect you here," Ron assured him.

"From what?" Harry demanded. "Being a Slytherin?"

Ron nodded again. "Yes, that's absolutely it."

"It's a little late for that," Harry pointed out.

"Never let it be said that a Weasley gives up easily!" Ron declared. "Unless, of course, we don't want to do whatever it is we're attempting and then it's a bloody miracle we even started."

"Ron, you're being really unreasonable here," Hermione told him seriously. "Snape is a Hogwarts professor and therefore he can't be that bad."

"Hermione, I hate to break it to you but the man is _pure evil_," Ron countered, equal solemn.

"Funny," Neville remarked casually. "And here I thought that label was reserved for the Dark Lord and people who use muggle pesticides."

"He was hired by Dumbledore!" Hermione exclaimed.

"So was Lockhart," Ron retorted. He glanced sheepishly at Harry. "No offense."

"Why would he take offence that you keep insulting everything he is or cares about?" Neville asked rhetorically.

Ron shrugged. "Percy kind of insisted that I apologize if I say something like that. But that's not the point!"

"There was a point?" Harry asked, beginning to get a headache.

"Why are you claiming that Snape is your favorite teacher?" Ron demanded.

Harry opened his mouth to answer.

"And don't just tell me that he _is_," Ron continued quickly. "Tell me why in the world you're under that delusion."

"So he can't _really_ be my favorite teacher?" Harry demanded. "It has to be a delusion."

"That's pretty presumptuous of you, Ron," Hermione agreed. "Does he have to have the same favorite teacher as you?"

"No," Ron replied. "Just as long as it isn't _Snape_. I mean, how am I supposed to save him from being evil if he insists on doing a thing like that?"

"How do you propose to save him from being evil without that?" Neville asked. "I mean, it's not like you really do anything but occasionally accuse him of being evil anyway-"

"That's quite enough of that," Harry said suddenly, dragging Neville away from Ron. The last thing he needed was Ron to actively attempt to 'save' him.

* * *

"So how long are we going to have these flying lessons?" Hermione asked nervously, looking dejectedly down at her broom which had absolutely refused to move at all. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I can spend the rest of my life using the Floo or Portkeys and I'll never have to ride a broom. Ever."

"Probably only a few weeks," Harry assured her. "We're not even allowed to have brooms, after all, so as soon as they're sure that we can ride a broom without killing ourselves or each other you'll be off the hook."

"So I have a question," Neville said suddenly. "What's the first thing you think of when you think of Gryffindor?"

"The most noble and courageous of houses with very distinguished alumni like Dumbledore," Hermione replied promptly.

Neville nodded. "Yeah, but you're _in_ Gryffindor so I'm not sure I should take your word for it. Harry?"

"Reckless foolishness," Harry told him.

Neville nodded. "That's what I thought. Draco accused me of not being reckless enough to be a Gryffindor yesterday."

Harry winced. "What are you going to do?"

"The most recklessly foolish thing I can think of at the moment," Neville replied, mounting his broom and taking off.

"Neville!" Hermione shouted after him. "Get back down here!"

"Come back, boy!" Madame Hooch called but Neville just kept rising.

"Did he lose control of his broom?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "This is probably the most Gryffindor thing I've ever seen, though, so he should be happy."

"If he survives this," Hermione muttered. "Did he just…NEVILLE! DON'T YOU DARE!"

But it was too late. Neville, either accidentally or otherwise, had let go of his broom – which continued to fly – and was now hurtling towards the ground. There was a loud noise as Neville smashed into the ground and didn't get up.

Hermione and Harry immediately rushed to his side.

"What the hell?" Harry demanded.

"Worth it," Neville insisted, wincing in pain.

Madame Hooch reached Neville's side. "Broken wrist," she muttered. "It's always the Gryffindors. Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get. None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Draco waited until she was out of sight for a full ten seconds before he acted. "If that's not an invitation to 'practice' then I don't know what is."

"How about 'while I'm gone, partner up and carefully practice lifting off'?" Daphne deadpanned.

"Your muggle-loving mind tricks won't work on me!" Draco cried.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "You know what? I don't even care."

"Let's have a Seeker-off," Draco suggested. "Who wants to face me?"

No one said anything.

"Weasley, how about you?" Draco asked.

Ron blanched. "I would but Harry's going to do it instead."

"_What_?" Harry hissed.

"Come on, Harry! I'd do it but I'm more of a Keeper than a Seeker and I can't lose to Malfoy!" Ron whispered urgently.

"This is a _really_ stupid thing to do, Harry," Hermione said flatly.

"I'll stop pestering you about turning evil until November," Ron offered.

"Deal."

Harry had ridden a broom on a few occasions in the past so he wasn't completely new to this (and unlike Draco he'd been forced to study pictures of correct broom gripping before Hogwarts so he could look like he knew what he was doing). Still, he had never tried his hand at anything Quidditch-related before. Crabbe had 'donated' an apple that he had taken from breakfast to use as the makeshift Snitch and the first one to catch it won. It was a close thing, but in the end Harry just managed to close his hand around the apple and pull up before he would have gone crashing into the ground.

It wasn't like he had expected thunderous applause or anything – even if what he did was really cool – but he hadn't expected utter silence either. He turned to see what was up with them and when he did his heart froze.

Snape was standing a few feet away watching them impassively. "Potter, Mr. Malfoy, over here."

Harry tossed the apple back to Crabbe and put down his broom before going over to see Snape. The trio walked into they were far enough way that the rest of the class couldn't hear them before Snape began. "Explain."

"We were just trying to make the most of our interrupted lesson since Neville got taken to the hospital wing," Draco said innocently.

"That's ten points from Gryffindor for irresponsibility during a dangerous lesson," Snape said automatically.

It was quite irresponsible on Neville's part, actually, but it wasn't like Snape knew what had happened. For all he knew, it was an accident.

"I watched your little…competition," Snape said silkily. "Mr. Malfoy, I do believe you have a gift. Perhaps you should think about trying out for the team next year. And you, Potter…detention."

With that, he spun around and strode away.

Harry stood in silence for a moment before shrugging. "Worth it."

Review Please!


	16. Challenged to a Duel

Chapter Sixteen: Challenged to a Duel

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"Do you think I'll really be able to be the Slytherin team Seeker next year?" Draco fretted.

"Well, this year's Seeker is graduating so the position is open," Harry replied. "Just make sure to practice that gripping and you'll be fine."

"My father will be thrilled if I make the team in second year," Draco continued. "Only the _really_ talented ones get on in second year. It will be easier being a Seeker and not a Beater, Keeper, or even Chaser where size matters but it's still a really big thing."

Harry nodded agreeably. "Yeah, I agree."

"Oh, what about you?" Draco asked, suddenly seeming to realize that Harry had been even more impressive than he had in their little game. "Do you think you might want to try out for the team?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. It's a big time commitment and I haven't played in any formal games yet."

"I can't believe you got a _detention_," Draco commiserated, shaking his head.

"And you got a recommendation to try out for the team," Harry said dryly.

"See, this is why it helps for the teacher to like you," Draco told him.

"Potter!" Zacharias Smith's voice echoed loudly behind them.

Harry sighed. "Yes?"

"I have finally come up with something that you absolutely can't ignore!" Zacharias said triumphantly. "Not if you have any honor, at any rate."

Ah, honor. That might complicate matters depending on how public it was. "I'm listening," he said calmly.

"I challenge you to a wizard's duel!" Zacharias agreed loudly.

"On what grounds?" Harry demanded. Really? A duel? He was being challenged to a freaking _duel_?

"You have not been treating me with the respect I deserve," Zacharias growled.

By which, Harry supposed he meant, that he had indeed been treating him with some actual respect and he didn't want that.

"Harry accepts, of course," Draco inserted himself into the conversation smoothly. "I'll be Harry's second. Who is yours?"

"I…I'll find somebody," Zacharias vowed.

"You do that," Draco said a little condescendingly. "We'll meet you and your second in the trophy room – that's always unlocked – at midnight."

Zacharias nodded solemnly. "It's a deal."

Harry waited until Zacharias had walked away before confronting Draco. "What was that about? I don't want to get out of bed in the middle of the night and risk getting in trouble over _Zacharias Smith_."

"I figured you didn't," Draco said, nodding.

"Then why did you tell him that we would?" Harry inquired, confused.

"Because if I didn't then he'd still be arguing and we can just tip Filch off anyway. Here, watch," Draco instructed, spotting Filch cleaning the floor not too far from them.

Filch heard them coming and glared up at them. "Stay back, I'm cleaning here."

"Excuse me, sir," Draco said, his tone far more polite than Harry would have expected to hear from him when addressing a caretaker. "We heard the most dreadful plot by Zacharias Smith to be out of bed and in the trophy room at midnight. Who knows what foul mischief he and his friends will get up to?"

"He will, will he?" Filch asked, his eye twitching. "Well, we'll just see about _that_. Run along, boys."

"What did I tell you?" Draco asked, smirking in self-satisfaction as they made their way down the hallway. "Zacharias will probably get detention and even if he doesn't he'll get a good scare getting chased by Filch."

"You're a horrible person, I hope you know that," Harry told him half-seriously.

Draco shrugged. "It's the price you pay for being able to deal with morons."

* * *

"Hey, did you hear what happened last night?" Neville inquired as he sat next to Harry at breakfast the next morning.

"Why are you even here?" Blaise inquired.

"Gryffindors know no fear," Neville responded promptly.

"It's part of their plot to take over the school and, through that, all of wizarding Britain," Theodore explained.

Neville squinted at him. "Hey, you weren't at the meetings." He turned back to Harry. "Anyway, did you?"

"I don't think so," Harry replied. "But then, I've only just got up. Listen, are you feeling okay?"

Neville looked surprised. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, that stunt you pulled in flying class, for one. You had to go to the Hospital Wing and I'm really starting to question your sanity for doing that," Harry told him.

Neville rolled his eyes. "I'm just as sane as anybody here."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement," Harry muttered.

Neville snorted. "True. But not to worry, I've gotten that all out of my system."

"For now. You _are_ a Gryffindor," Harry pointed out.

A smile spread across Neville's face. "You bet I am."

"And you realize that you let Draco goad you into doing something stupid, right?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Neville nodded anyway. " 'Let' being the key word here. He didn't force me to do it and he didn't trick me. I decided that I would rather risk a minor injury Madam Pomfrey could soon clear up than deal with him insisting I never did anything Gryffindor-ish."

"It could have killed you," Harry argued.

"Well, it didn't," Neville said dismissively.

Harry sighed internally. Clearly there was just something about the Gryffindor mindset that he was just not grasping. "What happened?" he asked instead.

"Zacharias Smith got caught with Ernie MacMillan in the trophy room at midnight," Neville revealed. "Although technically I guess that makes it 'this morning'."

"Really?" Harry said, feigning surprise. "Why would anyone be in the trophy room at midnight?"

"Well, they claimed that they were waiting for you and Draco to show up so that they could duel you but no one believes them. After all, we haven't really learned enough magic for a proper duel, you barely acknowledge that Zacharias exists, and no one actually believes that Draco would stick his neck out for anybody," Neville explained.

"So what do people think happened?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, Zacharias and Ernie are a bit young but they're sort of convinced that they wanted some…alone time," Neville answered.

"Do you think that's true?" Harry asked innocently.

Neville laughed. "Please. Like _that_ has anything to do with it."

* * *

"And _that_ is how I managed to defeat the Wagga Wagga Werewolf," Gilderoy said proudly. Since his initial interview with Hagopian, he had learned that 'Wagga Wagga' was, in fact, a town in Australia that the werewolf in question was presumed to have originated from and had made sure to include that information by the time that the book had actually gone to print. "Any questions?"

Pansy Parkinson raised her hand. "How in the world have you managed to get so much done in such a relatively short time, Professor?"

"Luck and talent, Miss Parkinson," Gilderoy replied, beaming his trademark grin at her. "And not a little bit of hard work. It may be touted as a Hufflepuff value but I think we'll all find ourselves in need of putting a little effort in at some point in our lives. It's best to learn how to do that now and not have to learn as you go when you really need it."

Predictably, that seemed to interest the always-ambitious Slytherins.

"Class dismissed and the assignment is on the board," Gilderoy informed them. "Harry, if you could stay back for a moment?"

Harry nodded and waved his friends off.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked once they were alone.

Gilderoy shook his head. "We've talked about this. There's really no need to call me 'Professor' when we're alone. It's not like my adopting you is some big secret anyway." Well, it wasn't anymore, at least.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Dad. It's just a little difficult getting into the habit of calling you 'Professor' in front of other people so I just want to make sure that I'm not going to slip up."

"If you do, it's understandable," Gilderoy assured him. "Again, everyone knows and you're hardly the first student to have a relationship with a professor outside of the classroom." He paused. "I think that might have come out wrong."

"Just a little," Harry agreed.

"I mean, I'm sure it's happened but that's a _whole_ different story," Gilderoy continued. "Still, I've got to tell you, Harry, that no one is scrutinized for that kind of behavior quite as closely as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Harry frowned. "Why is that? Are people saying something? That's ridiculous!"

"I know, I know," Gilderoy said appeasingly. "It's not _me_, per se, it's the position."

"What is it about the position that makes them more nervous than other positions?" Harry wondered. "I mean, I could see being wary of the potions professor because they can brew love potions and things but I can't really see Snape doing anything like that."

Gilderoy shuddered. "And now I can and need some brain bleach. Thank you for that."

"I try," Harry said modestly.

"To answer your question, it's because the Defense Against the Dark Arts job is only ever filled for a year. Having someone else each year means that there's a bigger chance that _someone_ would be so morally bankrupt as to take advantage of students and that there's never any chance to build up the sort of trust working with people for years will give you," Gilderoy explained. "And naturally there's the fact that unless the teacher in question plans to leave then there has to be _some_ reason that they don't come back for a second year and that kind of scandal will ensure they never come within a few hundred meters of a school ever again."

"Has there ever been a case of a teacher voluntarily leaving after one year?" Harry asked anxiously.

Gilderoy hesitated. "Well…there have usually been strong inducements not to return. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor I had as a second year had her mother suddenly die the last week of school and leave her a huge inheritance. Frankly, even if she hadn't no longer needed to teach, I doubt she would have wanted anything further to do with the institution she blamed for her mother's death."

"That's not good," Harry said flatly.

"I'll be fine," Gilderoy assured him. "I don't think that Professor Greengrass was planning on leaving after just one year."

"But what if-" Harry started to say.

"Harry, it's a chance that I'm willing to take," Gilderoy interrupted. "And you know me. I'm not really big on taking chances with my life. That's why I'm a novelist." Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. Even in the privacy of his own office and with someone who already knew all about how he _really_ operated, he didn't feel comfortable discussing the fact that he hadn't actually done any of the things that he was famous for (besides adopting Harry but even the details of that were carefully fudged). It just seemed too big of a risk when he could just use euphemisms he knew that only people who already knew his secret would actually get.

Harry paused suddenly as if something occurred to him. "Wait, you said 'morally bankrupt'? Are you saying that there's something you find immoral and look down on?"

Gilderoy was surprised. That was a little worrying. "Of course! Just because I might have…unconventional methods in some areas doesn't mean that I don't have any morals at all. And let me tell you, Harry, that the best way to avoid getting caught doing something you shouldn't be doing is to not be stupid about it. Weigh the risk and the benefits. Sleeping with underage girls or even legal girls who are still your students will _never_ be worth the risk. Ever."

Harry nodded. "Got it." It wouldn't be something he'd need to be concerned about for _years_ but it was never too early to start trying to get him prepared for the rest of his life. "So what did you want to talk about? Or did you just want to catch up?"

"Partly it was just to catch up," Gilderoy replied. "After all, I haven't gotten to see you very much since the term started."

"I have class twice a week," Harry reminded him. "And I stop by whenever I have time."

"It's not the same," Gilderoy complained.

"Yeah," Harry said, shaking his head. "Hogwarts is definitely not anything like anything else I've ever experienced, ever, no matter how many times we moved around."

Gilderoy frowned. "Do you even like Hogwarts, Harry?"

Harry said nothing for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's weird. Sometimes in a good way, sometimes in an 'I wonder what Beauxbatons would be like' kind of way."

Gilderoy gasped in horror. "Not _France_!"

"I said I was only considering it!" Harry said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "And not even _seriously_ considering it."

"Okay, good," Gilderoy said relieved. "Because while I haven't spent much time in this country since I adopted you, I am still very much a patriot."

"A patriot in the 'pretend to dislike other countries that have traditional rivalries with your own', right?" Harry asked, just to make sure.

"Who's pretending?" Gilderoy asked innocently. "So how are you adjusting? You've mostly managed to stay under the radar. Well, if you don't count the fact that you're Harry Potter so everyone wants to know everything about you, the flying incident, and your little…whatever it is with Snape."

"So not very much under the radar," Harry concluded.

"Oh, I don't know," Gilderoy said idly. "I went to school with your biological father, you know. I didn't really know him but even though he wasn't famous, he managed to get a _lot_ more attention than you are. He was wonderfully talented…"

"Is this a 'good job keeping a low profile while you're young' kind of thing, a 'you're drawing too much attention to yourself' kind of thing, or a 'how is it that you're famous and you're only getting this much attention' kind of thing?" Harry wondered. "Or even a 'nice job getting so much attention at your age' kind of thing?"

Gilderoy shrugged. "It's really up to you, Harry. I can only advise you. How you manage your career and capitalize on your past successes is up to you. I can't always be there to tell you how to play it."

Harry nodded. "Okay then. I'm mostly just playing it by ear but it seems that even just _not_ getting involved in outlandish things that will only draw attention to myself actually draws attention to myself."

Gilderoy grinned at him. "What can I say, Harry? The people love you. I have never been so proud." He snapped his fingers suddenly. "I just remembered…you asked me about whether Professors Quirrell or Snape gave you a headache at the opening feast, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It was more of a scar-ache despite the fact that I don't think scars are supposed to hurt. It hasn't happened again but it still freaked me out. I don't think it was natural."

"I did some research and it turns out that it's probably Legilimency," Gilderoy told him. "It works best with eye contact but that is not always required with those that are truly skilled at it. The way to defend against it is Occlumency and I'll get you a book on studying that if you like. It might be a bit too advanced for you right now but there's nothing wrong with starting young."

"What's Legilimency?" Harry inquired.

"Basically, mind reading," Gilderoy explained. "The experts would tell you that it's far more complicated than that but for our purposes that's all you need to know."

"I can see Snape reading people's minds," Harry said slowly. "It might actually come in handy when you're a teacher. He was looking at me and Quirrell wasn't so it seems like it would be him. But…why did I only have the headache once?"

"Unless You-Know-Who himself were somehow involved and that hurt you then I don't know," Gilderoy admitted. "Although…you know that Snape was accused of being a follower of You-Know-Who?"

Harry blinked. "Wait, what?"

Gilderoy nodded. "It's true. Dumbledore explained that Snape was actually a spy for him so he didn't have to go to Azkaban. No one really likes to argue with Dumbledore, you see."

"He's as mind-reader _and_ used to work for You-Know-Who while possibly being a spy for Dumbledore?" Harry asked incredulously. "Is there anything _else_ you haven't told me about Snape that I might like to know? Did he father me or something?"

Gilderoy examined him critically. "Not that I know of and you certainly look too much like James Potter for me to believe that. Oh, but did I even mention that Snape and your mother used to be friends? They had a nasty falling out after their OWLS, everybody heard about it…"

Review Please!


	17. Muggle Studies with Quirrell

Chapter Seventeen: Muggle Studies with Quirrell

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

By and large, the Hogwarts staff didn't change much over the years with the obvious exception being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Since Gilderoy was going to be leaving the castle next year and someone else was moving in and going to try to shape Harry, it was only responsible to try to get some sort of an idea of what that would be like.

Fortunately for him, he already knew who the likely replacement professor would be since Quirrell had applied for the job the previous year. The position had gone to him instead because this way they could get at least another year out of Quirrell as the Muggle Studies professor before losing him to the Defense Against the Dark Arts curse. Next year, it was possible that Quirrell would be denied again (and that he and Snape would form some sort of denied-position bond out of it when they weren't competing over the job at the end of the year) but the chances seemed good that during some point in Harry's years at Hogwarts Dumbledore wouldn't be able to find anybody to fill the position and so hire Quirrell.

Gilderoy wasn't really sure why anyone would _want_ to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. With over forty years of something coming up to prevent a teacher from being around for longer than a year, it was clear that the position was cursed. All this staff-changing meant that the curriculum was uneven at best, which was a shame for such an important topic. Even he was there mostly as a means to stay close to Harry during his first year (and to sell a lot of books) than to actually help prepare the next generation of wizards for facing off against Dark creatures. Still, best he avoid the things he couldn't do and not teach it wrong which could really end up backfiring on a student someday.

Really, Gilderoy would have preferred to teach history because that was something he was really good at and that didn't require him to fake anything (not that he minded but it was always best to not fake where you could so there was less of a chance to get caught) but Binns would _never_ leave. He couldn't even wait around for the old man to die given the fact that that had already happened decades ago.

Gilderoy stuck his head into the Muggle Studies classroom. "You don't mind if I sit in today, do you?" He had asked Dumbledore about it and the headmaster was fine with it as long as Quirrell didn't think he would disrupt the lesson.

There was a spasm on Quirrell's face and for a moment it looked like he was going to say that actually he _did_ mind very much but then it passed. "O-of course not, G-Gilderoy. It's a-always n-nice to see another p-p-professor taking an interest in my w-work. Y-you'll probably be a b-better judge of how I d-do than my students."

"I'll make sure to let you know what I thought when you're done," Gilderoy promised, grinning at him. Listening to Quirrell speak (or stutter, more like) was actually really _annoying_ and he hadn't taken that into account when he decided to watch the man in action. Still, if being an annoying stutterer hadn't stopped Quirrell from getting hired, or rather gotten him fired when he came back from his sabbatical with it, then there was no reason to think that it would prevent him from getting a different subject to teach.

Well…maybe. He wasn't sure how stuttering would affect spells. As an adult and a teacher, Quirrell could _probably_ cast them silently but he'd have to teach them out loud and the stutter could throw off his inflection and thus prevent the students from learning it correctly. Dumbledore would probably take that into account.

After a few minutes, the students started to trickle in.

It looked like this was the third years.

"W-welcome class," Quirrell greeted them. "Allow me to r-read off the r-roll call."

Gilderoy did his best not to twitch as Quirrell slowly stuttered his way through all of the students.

"N-now t-today I thought we could discuss how v-violent muggles can b-be," Quirrell announced.

Sarah Fawcett raised her hand. "My father told me that muggles aren't any more violent than wizards are and if anything we carry dangerous weapons around all the time while they don't."

"W-well I w-would never think of trying to t-tell you what to think s-so I suggest that we l-look at the f-facts," Quirrell told her. Gilderoy thought it was pretty obvious that he thought her father was full of it but was too tactful to say so. "N-name the last t-two serious d-dark wizards."

Cedric Diggory raised his hand. "You-Know-Who and Gellert Grindelwald."

Gilderoy wondered how long it would be until people stopped calling him You-Know-Who. As terrifying as his reign had been, sooner or later people would forget or else enough time would pass that no one could remember it happening. In a hundred years they weren't going to talk about the reign of the Dark Lord You-Know-Who. Stripped of its context, it really didn't sound particularly intimidating. Neither did Tom Riddle but that was why, Gilderoy supposed, he had changed his name and Grindelwald hadn't felt the need to.

"A-And those two were the only t-two major dark wizards of the t-twentieth century," Quirrell pointed out. "There m-may have been m-minor dark wizards but there are also minor m-muggle killers. The second W-World War may have b-been fueled on by Grindelwald's forces but w-what about the first? W-what about the war in K-Korea? V-Vietnam? The Chinese C-Civil War? The Iran-Iraq W-War? The R-Russian Civil War? F-French Indonesia? The Mexican R-Revolution? The Spanish Civil War? The French-Algerian W-War? Afghanistan? The R-Russo-Japanese War? The Riffian W-War? The S-Sudanese Civil War? The Russo-P-Polish War? The B-Biafran War? The Chaco W-War? The Abyssinian W-War? And th-those are just the big ones. A-At any given t-time you can be assured that m-muggles will be fighting."

"There are many more muggles than there are wizards, though, so it makes sense that there is a muggle war going on more often than a wizarding war," Roger Davies pointed out.

"Y-yes to s-some extent," Quirrell conceded, "but there is l-literally _never_ a time when th-they aren't fighting each other. Even the n-numbers difference does n-not account for that a-alone."

"We can use magic while muggles are forced to use less effective methods of killing each other," Andrew Kirke offered. "Therefore they can afford to go to war more often while we really can't. Does that have anything to do with it?"

"I-in the past that m-might have been the case but i-it is simply n-not true a-anymore," Quirrell replied. "M-muggles find themselves in p-possessions of guns that can fire m-multiple bullets a s-second or that can be p-properly aimed from very f-far away."

Victoria Forbisher raised her hand. "Professor, what's a 'gun'?"

"D-does anybody know?" Quirrell directed the inquiry to the class.

One of the Weasley twins' hand shot straight up. Gilderoy didn't even pretend to be able to tell the pair apart and as long as he admitted that, the twins didn't feel the need to try and mess with him about the matter.

"A gun is a muggle weapon that shoots small projectiles with deadly force at people," the Weasley said promptly. "It's _awesome_."

"We've seen 'Die Hard' _and_ 'Terminator'," the other Weasley explained. "_Awesome_."

"I-I'm sure that those m-movies are very g-good examples of how d-dangerous muggles can be," Quirrell said, trying to keep the class on topic. "A b-bullet can go through a shield ch-charm and they t-travel t-too quickly to hide b-behind something."

"But still," Andrew argued. "Wizards can kill that quickly too, particularly when they don't have to say the name of their spell. That doesn't make muggles _more_ dangerous than wizards, especially since we have our wands on us always and they probably don't have guns on them at all times."

"G-guns are regulated by the m-muggles, yes," Quirrell conceded. "But those that w-would be most d-dangerous with g-guns aren't going to l-let something like that stop them. And there a-are other m-means muggles have of causing death. You m-may have h-heard of bombs, which a-are long-r-range weapons that explode. Th-they can be h-hidden until they e-explode and cause m-much damage."

"Surely magic can protect us from _that_," Sarah said, looking disturbed.

"P-perhaps," Quirrell allowed. "But that i-is assuming that there i-is enough warning to p-protect yourself and th-this is often n-not the case. O-over four decades a-ago, muggles in the U-United States created a n-new type of bomb that n-now many countries have: nuclear w-weapons. They c-can vaporize people, destroy wh-whole cities, cause r-radiation sickness shortly after the f-fact, and c-cancer after _y-years_ have passed. What spell could d-do that?"

There was no answer.

"A r-ritual perhaps b-but those w-will be dark and w-will be nasty and no d-doubt illegal," Quirrell continued. "A s-straight up fight between a w-wizard and a m-muggle will usually not e-even be a contest but y-you have to remember that m-muggles are not a-always as harmless a-as they seem and there are f-far more of them than there a-are of us. At s-some point, you m-may need to defend y-yourself."

Strictly speaking, everything Quirrell had said was true. Muggles could be _very_ adept at killing people and many wizards – maybe even most – underestimated them which could lead to them being hurt or killed. What he had said about their weapons was true. There was an almost obscene difference in proportion between muggles and wizards. Muggles were dangerous and could be violent when provoked or when faced with something they didn't understand, such as magic, and it would be foolish to ignore it.

Just the same…no one (nearly no one) took Muggle Studies because they already knew all about them. Muggle Studies was more of a class for purebloods or half-bloods who were curious about how the other half lived. Quirrell's lessons might be the only bit of instruction these students ever received on the subject and Quirrell was spending his time talking about the dangerous muggles that might try to kill them?

Something was seriously wrong with this picture.

* * *

As Harry's detention drew nearer, he was really starting to get concerned about it. He had never had a detention before, of course, but he knew that it couldn't be anything _too_ bad or Dumbledore wouldn't allow it. Logically, he knew that and yet who knew how bad was 'too bad'? He knew that Gilderoy just had people help answer his fan mail which, while it could be annoying if they weren't interested in celebrities, was pretty harmless overall.

His real problem was just how worried everyone else seemed to be and the rampant speculation about what, exactly, Snape would do to Harry during the detention. The offence itself, flying unsupervised, wasn't particularly bad and Draco had actually gotten away with it but it was no secret that Snape definitely did not like him. Well…to the people who didn't believe that secretly he was very fond of Harry and just putting on a gruff mask to hide his true emotions. Harry may or may not have been discretely encouraging that line of thought.

Still, he wasn't stupid or particularly suicidal so he decided to sit on the information about his mother until after the detention was over. Who knew? If he pushed hard enough, Snape might decide that Dumbledore's wrath was worth it and just snap.

What must have been half of Slytherin house (who reported nothing more than homework detentions when they themselves had been supervised by Snape) followed him down from the common room to Snape's office. One third-year girl that Harry didn't know actually hugged him like she was expecting to never see him again which was a bit…disconcerting, to say the least.

For all the build-up, Harry was almost disappointed. Snape had barely glanced at him once while he had to hand-scrub some dirty cauldrons lying around. Okay, so maybe that had taken three hours and he didn't have much experience with cleaning but he'd been expecting something far worse.

When Harry eventually returned to the common room at just past eleven, he found that everyone in his year and quite a few others were waiting up for him.

"_Well_?" Tracey demanded. "Did you survive?"

"I think so," Harry said neutrally.

"I know that you wouldn't have any idea about this but I'm half-way certain that he tortured you for three hours, erased your memory, and then implanted the memory of you doing something that wouldn't get him fired and thrown into Azkaban," Theodore declared dramatically.

"What would be the point in torturing him if he wasn't going to remember it?" Daphne asked sensibly.

"His own personal satisfaction," Theodore answered just a bit too quickly for Harry's comfort.

"He certainly doesn't look tortured," Blaise said, eyeing him critically. "Unless you count his hands which look a little raw."

"It's fine, guys. I just had to scrub some cauldrons," Harry promised them.

"But that's servants' work!" Pansy cried out, horrified.

"Not even that," Draco corrected her, grimly. "It's _house elf_ work. If Snape didn't have Harry in detention, you know that's what he would have done."

"You should complain," Pansy said seriously. "It's just not right to do that to a student."

"It really wasn't all that bad," Harry protested.

Pansy shook her head, appalled at his lack of indignation. "What exactly has Professor Lockhart been teaching you, Harry?" she demanded.

"How not to needlessly antagonize someone in a position of power over me because I'm mildly annoyed by a detention I probably deserved," Harry replied smoothly.

"Well I wouldn't stand for it," Pansy sniffed.

"Fortunately, you didn't have to," Harry told her.

"Did he say anything to you during the detention?" Daphne asked him.

Harry shook his head. "Not really. He just told me what to do and when I could leave. He did say that he might have the house-elves redo one or two of them."

"If he's going to do that then he might as well not even have you clean them in the first place," Millicent pointed out.

"Are we even sure that he had Harry do that in the first place?" Theodore demanded. "I mean, it would be _far_ too easy for someone like Snape to pull something like that over someone like Harry."

"Hey, what do you _mean_ 'someone like me'?" Harry demanded.

"I meant 'someone who would not notice if their memories were tampered with'," Theodore helpfully clarified. "You know, I could have sworn that I was being clear about that but oh well."

"You're not going to change your mind about this, are you?" Harry asked, almost resigned to it. Theodore was smart but his devotion to whatever conspiracy theory happened to catch his attention often led him to say and do very bizarre things.

"Not unless you offer him some proof that that did, in fact, happen," Blaise said dryly. "Then he'll likely insist that someone's trying to frame Snape."

"I have no biases," Theodore claimed.

"I don't think this is a good sign," Draco declared. "Even the people who have had multiple detentions with Snape have all just had to sit for awhile and do homework that we would have had to have done later. This is only Harry's first detention and already he's being treated like he's not even in Slytherin!"

"What makes you think that Harry's going to get more detentions with Snape?" Daphne asked him.

"The fact that I have, in fact, met Harry and he doesn't seem the type to give up because of one wasted evening," Draco replied.

"Would you?" Daphne challenged.

"If it weren't possible for me to involve my father then that certainly does seem like the sensible thing to do," Draco agreed.

"Maybe not everyone is a quitter," Daphne said pointedly.

"And maybe there is very little point in taking great risks and being willing to suffer for such a petty cause," Draco countered. "I mean, honestly Harry, what are you even doing this to Snape for?"

"Doing what?" Harry asked innocently. "Holding him up as my favorite teacher? I don't know, there's just something about his classes that appeal to me."

"You may have a point about that one," Daphne said grudgingly.

"Of course I do," Draco said as if it was obvious and he was surprised that she might have doubted that for a moment. "And when he continues to get these detentions, who knows what Snape will do to Harry? He might even start giving him _Gryffindor_ detentions."

Harry wasn't quite sure what that was but from the way everyone started shuddering it couldn't be good (or at least how they thought Gryffindors got treated in Snape's detentions wasn't good).

It was almost a shame he was practically guaranteed to find out.

Review Please!


	18. Halloween

Chapter Eighteen: Halloween

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: To the reviewer who told me that Quirrell shouldn't have listed a war in Afghanistan because it hadn't started yet, please keep in mind that there _were_ wars in Afghanistan before the current one. The one Quirrell was referring to was the Soviet invasion which only ended two years prior.

Harry woke up Halloween morning at the usual time to find that, for once, his dorm room was completely empty. He shrugged it off because for all he knew the others had gotten up earlier because, a Thursday with classes or not, this _was_ a holiday.

His parents had died today and so, as he had every year since learning that his parents had passed away on Halloween, he decided to wear black as a sign of mourning. He didn't miss his parents themselves, per se, no he was too young for that. Instead, he mourned for the life he could have had with them. He was thrilled with the life he currently lived, of course, and couldn't imagine being raised by anyone else but there was still that sense of loss, particularly on Halloween. Since his school robes were already black, Harry simply forewent his typical Slytherin tie so he was wearing nothing but black.

Once he was finished getting ready for the day, he went downstairs to the Common Room to discover that that was also completely empty save Daphne.

"I feel like I'm missing something," Harry told her.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "You are but I can't blame you for not getting it. It's a little…unnecessarily paranoid, I think."

"Go on," Harry prompted.

"Today, as you're probably aware, is Halloween," Daphne began.

"And? Do the Slytherins usually all clear out of the Common Room at the crack of dawn on holidays? Or is it only Halloween?" Harry inquired. We wondered if Daphne would even know since she was in her first year as well.

"Normally, they don't," Daphne replied. "But they're kind of…well, they'd disagree with how I'm putting it but it is what it is. They're hiding from you."

"From me?" Harry asked, baffled. "What did I do? Or, more to the point, what did _they_ do?"

"Nothing," Daphne replied. "But your parents were killed on Halloween and everyone assumes that everyone in Slytherin is a Death Eater in training, anyway. In fact, some Slytherins are even related to actual Death Eaters. Draco's aunt, for instance, is Bellatrix Black who attacked the Longbottoms right after the Dark Lord vanished."

"So…what?" Harry asked, still not quite getting it. "They're hiding from me because it's awkward that some of their relatives might not have been pleased about my miraculous survival ten years ago? Surely not _all_ the Slytherins are related in some way to Death Eaters."

"You'd be surprised," Daphne said dryly. "In fact, we both are related to them as well, albeit more distantly. That's not it, though."

"Then why?" Harry wondered.

"They're worried that you might be upset today or angry and take it out on the most convenient targets," Daphne informed him.

"Because they're from a house that I'm in and that I don't agree is entirely evil and because they can't help but be related to people?" Harry asked. "Snape actually _was_ a Death Eater, no matter what side he was really on."

"Something that no one can ever really agree on," Daphne remarked. "But he's our professor and can make your life more miserable than any of us so he's really not a very convenient target. And you already annoy him a lot so good luck stepping that up without spending the rest of your Hogwarts career in detention. _Gryffindor_ detention."

"I can understand the other first years or maybe even second and third years being worried but don't the upperclassmen, some of whom are legal adults, secure enough that they wouldn't worry about an eleven-year-old?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Daphne shrugged. "You would think. Of course, by that point it was more about not being around if you reacted to your fellow Slytherins badly today than it was about you actually being able to do any damage. They all went to breakfast about an hour and a half ago."

"And you've just been sitting here all this time?" Harry inquired.

Daphne nodded. "Yes, it gave me plenty of time to catch up on my reading. It's usually so very difficult to manage to be alone in the dormitories and even if other people are trying to be quiet, it's not quite the same as being alone."

Harry nodded. "Well I'm glad that worked out for you. Why were you the one supposed to ask me if I was planning on flying off the handle, anyway? Are you the bravest Slytherin around?"

"You know that that word is practically a curse among Slytherins, right?" Daphne asked casually. "And no, it's because Draco reminded everyone that I had a – and I quote – 'Mudblood-loving cousin' I still acknowledged so they thought I'd be the safest."

"Using words like that really doesn't do much to distance him from Death Eaters," Harry remarked idly.

"Well if you'll notice, he never uses them around _you_," Daphne pointed out.

"So your family never supported You-Know-Who?" Harry asked curiously.

Daphne grinned. "Like anyone would actually be stupid enough to admit such a thing to you of all people. On today of all days."

"You're making it sound like I'm a snitch," Harry complained.

"To answer your question, they never were," Daphne replied. "They never spoke out against him, either. My parents are big in international trading and they felt that it would be best if they stayed neutral. Being diplomatic about any controversial issue is smart and if you don't feel strongly about it you don't have any reason not to."

"I can't imagine that anyone was happy with your family's neutral stance," Harry told her.

Daphne shook her head. "They weren't, of course, but as long as my family was willing to do business with them, they were too valuable to kill."

"And the legal consequences of doing business with everyone?" Harry asked.

Daphne shrugged. "None, actually. There was no law against doing business with dark lords or Death Eaters – and no way to prove my family knew who they were – and we don't smuggle."

"How very Slytherin of you," Harry complimented.

"Thanks," Daphne said, smiling again. "Now let's get down to breakfast before everyone assumes you've murdered me in your mad, grieving rage."

"Why, do you think they'll come back here to rescue you?" Harry inquired.

Daphne snorted. "Please, these people are Slytherins; they won't save me a seat."

* * *

Harry's classmates were still a little wary of him during Charms class, a fact that he thought was completely unconnected from the way he kept drawing his finger across his throat when they happened to be glancing his way or sending his feather to poke them insistently. As it happened, Harry already knew how to levitate an object since that was one of the basic spells his father expected them to learn right off and so he'd mastered that over the summer. Still, he spent a good ten minutes pretending to be trying to learn it before he started actually doing the spell and gained ten points for Slytherin.

By the Halloween feast, however, everyone seemed to have relaxed around him.

"No really," Draco was claiming. "It's a proud Malfoy tradition to wake up early on Halloween and then go down to breakfast. That way we can enjoy more of the holiday and I know we're not the only one."

"Then why didn't I wake up?" Harry queried.

"It would have been rude to wake you up," Draco claimed. "And if there's one thing a Slytherin is not, it's rude."

"Theodore?" Harry asked, turning to him.

"Don't listen to him, Harry," Theodore said promptly. "Everyone was concerned you'd discover your inner Gryffindor and decided that the most cunning thing to do would be to leave. Except for Daphne, but then she seems to have found her own inner Gryffindor."

Without pausing from her conversation with Tracey, Daphne threw a roll at Theodore's head.

"And now that I've revealed her secret, she's just tried to assassinate me," Theodore declared dramatically. "You all saw that, right? You'll be my witnesses?"

"Why is that even a question?" Harry wondered. "I mean, we're all right here and you know we saw her throw that at you."

"She could be paying you off," Theodore replied reasonably.

"Paying us off?" Harry repeated. "But she didn't throw it until you accused her of having her own-" he shuddered "- inner Gryffindor."

"Clearly she's been stalking me and knows me well enough to know that of course I would say that about her and that of course Harry would ask me what happened since of course everyone else would deny it," Theodore said matter-of-factly.

"It's not much of an assassination attempt if she only threw a roll at you which, even though it hit, didn't even hurt you," Draco pointed out. "And in front of so many witnesses, too!"

"That's only her first attempt," Theodore claimed. "And look what it's done already! You two don't even believe that my life is in danger."

"We don't, sorry," Harry said apologetically. "But hey, since you had the same story Daphne did – more or less – I'm officially more convinced that your conspiracy theories are true. Well, some of them at any rate."

Theodore sighed theatrically. "I wish that Blaise was here. He'd understand."

Draco looked around. "Ah, that's a good point, actually. Where is Blaise anyway?"

"Pansy told him that he was having a bad hair day after Charms so he ran straight to the bathroom and hasn't come out since," Theodore explained. "I'm actually supposed to take some of the feast upstairs to him at some point so I should probably set that aside now…"

Draco made a face. "Food in the bathroom? How unhygienic!"

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Presumably he won't be eating it on the toilet and the sink area is perfectly clean. The House Elves clean up every night and after every big mess made, after all."

"It kind of makes you wonder why we even need a caretaker since the House Elves do all of the work, anyway," Harry mused.

"My father said that Filch is just a Squib that Dumbledore feels sorry for and it's yet further proof of what a muggle-loving fool he is," Draco confided.

"But he's not a muggle," Harry argued. "Even if he is a Squib, that's not quite the same thing."

"He's more muggle than wizard, no matter who his parents may have been," Draco insisted.

Suddenly Professor Quirrell, who no one had noticed was missing from the head table, ran into the Great Hall like the hounds of hell were chasing after him. "TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! Thought you ought to know…" With that, he collapsed into a faint.

"Considering that the only things in the dungeon are Snape's classroom and office and the Slytherin Common Room, why was he even in the dungeon in the first place?" Theodore asked suspiciously. "I bet he let the troll in in the first place. Although I didn't know that there was an entrance to the castle through the dungeons. I don't like not knowing things like that."

"Please, it's Quirrell," Draco scoffed. "He fainted just from _thinking_ about the troll. He's far too pathetic for something like that."

"Or maybe that's just what he _wants_ you to think," Theodore returned.

Dumbledore set off several purple firecrackers to get everyone's attention back. ""Prefects lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!" he shouted.

"It's official: Dumbledore is trying to kill his Slytherin students," Theodore announced.

"Even me?" Harry asked.

"Good point," Theodore admitted reluctantly. "Oh, I know! He's hoping that you'll discover an inner Gryffindor of your own and do something stupid like wandering off to go find it."

"Do you think that the Gryffindors taunt each other about having inner Slytherins?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Nah, they're not interesting enough to do anything like that," Draco said dismissively. "Besides, who _wouldn't_ want an inner Slytherin?"

"A Gryffindor," Pansy said, coming to stand by them. "So is it just me or is returning to our dormitories in the dungeon when that's where the troll is supposed to be a _really_ stupid idea?"

"Well what are we supposed to do?" Draco asked. "Just sit here in the Great Hall? They'd never let us."

"We can always go and find Blaise," Theodore suggested.

"Oh, that would give us a nice excuse if we're caught. We're trying to warn the oblivious Blaise about the troll. When he's done hiding in the bathroom then he'll go back down to the dungeons where the troll is," Harry said, snapping his fingers.

"Slytherins don't hide, Harry," Draco sniffed.

"He saw no one in the Common Room this morning," Daphne pointed out. "I'm coming with you, by the way."

"Well I'm not," Tracey said, shuddering. "All of this sounds far too stupidly brave for me. What if you run into the troll?"

"The troll is supposed to be in the dungeons," Pansy pointed out.

"Well if Quirrell let it in then he could be lying about where it was," Theodore pointed out.

Daphne shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense. If he let the troll in as some sort of distraction for…something then wouldn't it be best if he sent the professors to actually deal with it? Otherwise they might not believe that the troll is actually in the castle."

"So it's going to be the five of us looking for the troll?" Draco asked. "Excellent."

"I didn't even agree to this," Harry complained.

"But you don't want to go back to the dungeon so what choice do you have?" Pansy asked reasonably.

Harry sighed. "Okay, that's a good point."

The five of them slipped in with some Hufflepuffs and then ducked around a corner and started heading for the bathroom that Theodore insisted Blaise was in.

"Footsteps!" Pansy hissed and they flattened themselves against a wall. She peered around the corner. "It's Snape."

"Snape?" Harry asked, alarmed. "What, did he set the troll lose and is now using the distraction to…do something?"

"I hope so," Draco said grimly.

Harry started. "What do you mean you hope so? That would make him the bad guy here."

"I do not share your plainly plebian mentality, Harry," Draco sniffed. "And if the alternative is that he's doing something Gryffindor like trying to stop whoever did do this or protecting something then I'll take him sneaking a troll into the castle any day."

"Well I wouldn't," Harry said firmly. "I annoy him so much that if he does turn out to be evil, I'm probably going to be the first to go."

"It doesn't matter how you act around him because if he's evil then he'll want you dead anyway," Daphne pointed out. She paused. "Though, of course, you really don't help your own case."

"It could, of course, be a complete coincidence and he's taking advantage of the troll to do…whatever it is he's doing," Theodore pointed out.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Do you ever _not_ take the minority opinion?"

"I form my opinions regardless of what anyone else thinks," Theodore claimed.

"Okay, Snape's gone," Pansy announced.

"Where was he going, anyway?" Harry wondered as they started moving again.

"What could possibly be so interesting that he'd have to rush off and check it in the middle of a troll attack?" Daphne asked, biting her lip. "Theodore?"

"That forbidden third floor corridor that we're not supposed to go near under penalty of death?" Theodore suggested.

"I don't think it's under penalty of death, just that going there could get us killed," Daphne disagreed.

"Believe what you will," Theodore said airily. "Maybe Snape's just curious about what's inside and is taking this opportunity when Dumbledore's distracted to investigate."

"Wouldn't the professors already know what's hidden there?" Draco asked.

"I doubt Dumbledore would have told them unless they absolutely needed to know and I further suggest that his list of people who need to know is much shorter than most people's would be," Theodore said. "But what could be in that corridor…"

"Well, there was a break-in at Gringott's awhile back but nothing was stolen," Pansy said slowly. "Then again, why would they admit that something was stolen?"

"Why would they admit that there was a break-in at all if nothing got stolen?" Daphne countered. "In fact…why would they admit that there was a break-in at all? That seems like it would really hurt their reputation."

"Better question: why would anyone hide something that wasn't safe at Gringott's in a school full of children?" Draco demanded. "That would be so reckless and idiotic that I can't believe even a Gryffindor would think it was a good idea."

"You're probably right," Harry agreed. He made a face. "That smells nasty!"

"Troll! In the corridor! Thought you ought to know," Theodore said dryly as the creature started to lumber towards them.

Review Please!


	19. Slytherin Style Heroics

Chapter Nineteen: Slytherin-Style Heroics

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

It stopped suddenly and made a sharp left into the room next to it.

"They key's in the lock," Daphne pointed out. "We could lock it in."

"That, Daphne, would entirely defeat the purpose," Draco told her. "That's the boys bathroom."

"BLOODY HELL!" Blaise's startled voice confirmed for them.

"So…what do we do?" Pansy asked.

"It just wouldn't be right to leave Blaise to be murdered while we stand here and watch," Harry opined.

"Well if we're not going to help then obviously we wouldn't just be standing around," Theodore pointed out. "We'd be running like hell."

"I really don't want to play the Gryffindor," Draco told them.

"IS SOMEBODY OUT THERE?" Blaise shouted out. "I THINK I HEAR VOICES. IF YOU ARE OUT THERE THEN HURRY UP AND COME SAVE ME OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL TURN INTO A GHOST AND HAUNT YOU FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. JUST _TRY_ TO GET LUCKY WITH _ME_ AROUND."

"He doesn't have to be such a prat about it," Draco grumbled, acting for all the world as if they hadn't been debating just leaving him there, as he headed for the door.

"You would think, with the troll in there with him, he'd have more pressing worries than thinking up creative threats," Harry remarked.

Theodore beamed with pride. "Not Blaise. He's a professional."

Blaise Zabini, his comb clenched tightly in his fist, was backed up against the opposite wall. His wand was shaking slightly as he held it out in front of him. "For the record, I am _not_ cowering."

"And _we_ are not being Gryffindors," Pansy countered.

"Why don't you shoot off a spell or something?" Daphne demanded.

"I would love to but I don't know what to do," Blaise admitted. "Aren't trolls immune to most magic?"

Predictably, the troll turned towards the noise and decided to go after them again.

"Oh, that's just brilliant," Draco complained. "Now he's after _us_."

"Just because you're the only one who didn't happen to say anything doesn't mean you need to start acting superior," Daphne told him crossly as she started to back up from the troll.

Harry then did something that was either very brave or very stupid (and either way not very befitting of a Slytherin). He whipped out his wand and cast a silent 'Obliviate' on the advancing troll. He didn't know if memory charms worked on trolls (did _anyone_? When would someone have the desire and the opportunity to test this?) but it was the only idea he had. Even if it worked, unless he managed to do so much damage that the troll was rendered unable to move – unlikely – then it would still come after him and he had just made himself a target.

But _someone_ had to do _something_.

Fortunately, he hadn't done something even stupider like do the spell out loud and lead to all sorts of questions like why he even knew that spell or was so familiar with it that it was the first thing he thought to use.

The spell appeared to work as the troll stopped short and stood blinking for a few, precious seconds.

Pansy took advantage of the troll's hesitation to take out her wand, point at the troll's club, and cry out, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club rose slowly out of the troll's hand and hit him on the head. Pansy cast this again and again and again.

"Not for nothing, Pansy," Draco remarked, staring down at the bloody mess the troll's head had turned into. "But I think you got him."

"Huh?" Pansy looked startled. "Oh. Right."

"_Somebody's_ got deep-seated anger issues," Theodore muttered.

Pansy glared at him and he held up his hands in mock-surrender.

"Is it dead?" Blaise inquired, moving over to the one remaining sink and beginning to wash his hands.

Harry poked it with his toe. "Yeah, I think it is."

"Congratulations, Pansy, you just killed a troll," Daphne said, looking at her with an expression that was almost awed.

"That's not a Gryffindor thing to do, is it?" Pansy asked worriedly.

Harry shook his head. "Nah. That was just too incredible to be given to _them_."

"You are probably the only person in this school to ever kill a troll, never mind the only first year," Draco said, impressed. "That is just…amazing."

Pansy's ears reddened. "Thanks."

"But I'm still really concerned about what this says about you," Theodore said, apparently deciding not to quit while he was ahead. "I mean, he was clearly down after the first blow and yet you just kept going at him."

"Theodore, do you really want _two_ people out to kill you?" Harry asked, looking pointedly at Daphne.

"Well…" Theodore trailed off.

"Why are you washing your hands?" Daphne asked Blaise. "You didn't get any of the troll blood on you, did you?"

"No," Blaise conceded. "But I have this thing about blood. Even just _looking_ at it seems highly unhygienic."

"Because that's not strange at all," Draco muttered.

Blaise responded by flicking water at Draco.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made them all turn towards the door.

"So _now_ people decide to show up and lend us a hand," Pansy said, annoyed. "After we already took care of the problem ourselves. They better not try to steal the credit for this."

"Aren't you worried we'll get in trouble?" Harry asked. He felt uncomfortably like some sort of teacher's pet (though certainly not Snape's) but it had to be asked.

"No," Pansy replied promptly. "If we get detentions then _we're_ blessed by a head of house who doesn't hate us and any flak we get for losing points will be offset by the fact that I killed a troll."

"You mean _we_ killed a troll," Blaise corrected.

"Actually, at most Harry contributed by doing something to stun it," Pansy disagreed.

"What about me?" Blaise demanded.

"You were kind of just standing there," Theodore reminded him.

Blaise shot him an irritated look. "Not helping."

"I just tell it like it is," Theodore said unrepentantly.

"I was the one who made you all come in when you were dithering outside," Blaise pointed out.

"Who was dithering?" Draco challenged. "Certainly not us. We were on our way to help you the minute we found out where the troll was."

"So basically it was all me," Pansy concluded.

Professor McGonagall burst into the room then, followed closely by Snape, who bent down to examine the troll, and Quirrell, who took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Draco threw Theodore a skeptical look at the sight and Theodore just rolled his eyes, apparently not convinced but this latest proof of Quirrell's pathetic-ness.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" demanded McGonagall, cold fury in her voice. Harry had never seen her look this angry. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Everyone turned to look expectantly at Harry. It would seem that he had somehow been elected the spokesman. He stepped forward. "Well, Professor, our dormitories are in the dungeon and that's where we were told the troll was going to be. We didn't think it was very safe."

"That doesn't explain why you are up here instead," she said frigidly.

"We weren't about to go risking our lives trying to return to our dormitories and we remembered that Blaise was up here and didn't know about the troll so we went to go warn him in case he encountered the troll on his way back," Harry explained.

"Attending meals, even feasts, isn't compulsory. I checked," Blaise added.

"And the reason it took five of you to do this?" McGonagall pressed.

"Safety in numbers, Professor," Harry said innocently.

"This troll is dead," Snape announced, having evidently finished his examination of the troll. "Who killed him? Draco, was it you? Or was Potter showing off?"

"Actually, Professor," Pansy spoke up, looking nervous but proud, "I did it. Harry managed to stun it somehow and then I managed to levitate its club and hit it over the head."

"More than once, by the look of it," Snape said, giving her a swift, piercing look.

"I wanted to be thorough," Pansy claimed.

"And thorough you most certainly were," Snape agreed. "Not many first-years could take on a full-grown mountain troll and while it shouldn't have happened tonight, I do understand. Twenty points to Slytherin for Miss Parkinson and ten points for the rest."

"_Seventy_ points?" McGonagall asked incredulously.

"I believe that they've earned it," Snape replied simply. Harry thought that he probably wouldn't have been so generous if they hadn't been Slytherins but he wasn't about to complain.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said reluctantly. Harry wondered what they would have been given if it had been up to her. Being notoriously fair, their being in Slytherin wouldn't have made any difference. Would they have gotten any points at all? Or would they have gotten into trouble? Still, it wasn't up to her as Snape was their head of house and he had spoken first. "Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go. I believe the students are finishing the feast in their common room."

"Excellent," Theodore said brightly as they filed into the hallway and began to make their way back to the dungeons. "Because I completely forgot to bring Blaise anything."

"I _knew_ you'd forget," Blaise said, annoyed.

"Hey, in my defense we were busy saving you," Theodore insisted.

"You didn't know I'd need to be saved," Blaise countered.

"Would you really want to eat food that had been in a room with blood, even if it hadn't touched it?" Theodore tried.

"You didn't know that that would happen when you left," Blaise pointed out.

"I could be psychic."

"Are you?" Blaise challenged.

"There was a _troll_ on the loose!" Theodore exclaimed.

"So? You lot clearly didn't panic," Blaise replied.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Apology accepted," Blaise said smoothly. "If only because I won't be going hungry after all."

"If you knew I'd forget you should have asked somebody else," Theodore told him.

"I can't believe that Snape actually gave _you_ points," Draco marveled, shaking his head.

"Yes, because the rest of this is just so perfectly normal," Harry deadpanned.

"Well yeah, that's weird, too," Draco agreed. "But compared to you getting points…I have priorities."

"Well, I _am_ a Slytherin," Harry pointed out. "House pride trumps everything."

"So what now?" Daphne asked sardonically. "Are we all bonded by trauma?"

"Please," Pansy sniffed. "Slytherins do not _get_ traumatized."

"What?" Harry asked amused. "There are some things you can't share without ending up friends and killing a troll is one of them?"

"_I_ killed it," Pansy corrected.

Daphne shuddered. "That level of mushiness would make me ill."

They stopped in front of a bit of bare, damp stone wall.

"Is this the right place?" Draco asked. "I can never remember."

"Well try the password and see if it works," Harry advised.

"Gryffindor," Draco said, opening up the stone door. "Is it just me or do we have some really odd passwords?"

"Well nobody will ever guess," Harry said reasonably. "Although I'm not entirely sure why we have to have our Commons Rooms hidden from each other anyway."

Theodore looked up from the semi-argument he was having with Blaise long enough to contribute his own bizarre theory. "Clearly it's because everyone thinks that we all hate each other so much we'd kill each other in our sleep if we had the opportunity to."

"Then why wouldn't we do it while we were awake?" Daphne challenged.

"Obviously because only the Gryffindors would want the confrontation," Theodore said as if it were obvious. "They really should stop promoting house rivalries if they _already_ don't trust us…"

* * *

Predictably, Pansy was being hailed as a hero to not only the Slytherins but the other three houses. Though this praise was reluctant on the part of the non-Slytherins, her achievement was just so _cool_ that it could not be ignored. Part of the reluctance certainly stemmed from anti-Slytherin prejudice and but Harry rather thought that most of it was the seventy points they had netted for it.

With the extensive training Harry had had, he made sure to quickly attach his name to the story and so now everyone knew how Pansy had only managed her daring deed because Harry had stunned the troll first. That stunners weren't actually very effective against the magic-resistant trolls were beside the point because clearly he had done something to stop it.

At breakfast that morning, Harry had actually gotten a note from Gilderoy requesting that he meet him in his classroom after breakfast. Now, since Gilderoy was perfectly capable of actually coming up to him and telling him to meet him or just telling him whatever it was that he wanted to tell him, Harry could only assume this meant that the discussion was supposed to be private.

He slipped out a couple of minutes before breakfast ended and headed to the classroom. He was waiting for no more than five minutes before Gilderoy joined him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Gilderoy apologized. "I just didn't want anybody to notice us leaving together."

"Did you fail to inform me we were in a spy novel now?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Nothing so fancy," Gilderoy replied. "Just basic privacy-preserving measures. I wanted to talk about last night."

Harry waited. It was probably a good idea to let Gilderoy go first.

"So…you helped kill a troll," Gilderoy said finally.

"I was essential," Harry corrected.

"While I applaud the way you've managed to work your way into the story, I really do have to ask what in the world were you thinking chasing after a troll?" Gilderoy demanded. "Trolls are known to kill grown men, let alone first years! You could have been killed."

"We weren't looking for the troll," Harry protested. "We were looking for Blaise, who the troll happened to have found. And what were we supposed to do? Go to the dungeons like Dumbledore said?"

"Well…no," Gilderoy conceded. "But you shouldn't have faced down that troll. If you were looking for a reputation boost, even seeing it and living to tell the tale would have been sufficient."

"Blaise was trapped in the bathroom with it," Harry explained. "And he seemed quite insistent on us coming in to save him."

"These things always seem to happen at Hogwarts," Gilderoy said, shaking his head. "Particularly to your biological father and his friends. Of course, there might have been some truth to the rumors that they went looking for trouble."

"I can't very well tell people about this, of course, but I actually owe it to you that I was able to play my part in defeating the troll," Harry admitted. "And if I hadn't been able to stop it then Pansy wouldn't have been able to kill it."

"I'm a little worried for that girl," Gilderoy confided. "Snape estimated that the troll's head had been smashed at _least_ a half a dozen times, probably more."

"Yes, well," Harry said awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "So I have never been in such a dangerous situation and I sort of panicked. The first spell that came to me was 'Obliviate' so I cast that one."

Gilderoy's eyes narrowed. "Not out loud, certainly."

"No," Harry confirmed. "Don't worry. You've certainly beaten it into my head by now that doing it out loud is _never_ a good idea."

"It really isn't," Gilderoy reiterated. "I had a close call once when you were only seven or so. I had just verbally Obliviated someone and their wife came home in time to hear it. I had to Obliviate _her_ as well, though silently this time so I wouldn't have to re-Obliviate the husband." He paused. "How did an Obliviate work on a troll, anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "It dazed him for a few seconds. I don't know how much longer he would have been like that because that's when Pansy took the club and started going at him. So…verdict?" He looked up at his father anxiously. Unplanned and unnecessarily dangerous though it had been, it had been the first bit of big publicity he had actively done and not just found out about after the fact like with his parents' deaths.

"You weren't the big hero of this story but had a solid role in it and you're only starting out so establishing yourself before you really get going is a good move," Gilderoy declared. "And to tell you the truth, I'm a little relieved you weren't the one to take down that troll."

"Because it was dangerous?" Harry inquired.

"Because I am _seriously_ wondering about that girl now," Gilderoy corrected. "She's got to have some pretty serious issues."

Review Please!


	20. Dumbledore Tries Again

Chapter Twenty: Dumbledore Tries Again

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Saturday morning when Harry stumbled down to breakfast, he received a note from the Headmaster.

Draco was never content to allow others their secrets and so attempted to read the letter from across the table. "Dumbledore?" he asked with a frown. "Why's Dumbledore want you to meet him in his office after breakfast?"

"Does the letter _look_ like it tells me why?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"_You're_ the one being summoned," Draco pointed out. "From what I've heard, students almost _never _get to go in there and certainly not first years."

"Lucky me then?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"I doubt it," Pansy told him. "You're probably just in a lot of trouble or something. Why else would Dumbledore be involved?"

"But I haven't really done anything to _be_ in trouble about," Harry protested. "Well, aside from that whole troll thing but you're the one who killed it and we didn't get punished for that."

"So you really have no idea?" Draco asked, disappointed. "How boring."

"Well I might tell you about it afterwards," Harry replied.

"Only _might_?" Draco complained.

Harry shrugged. "No promises."

"Maybe he's trying to talk Harry out of being a Slytherin," Theodore suggested.

"Nonsense," Draco scoffed. "The Sorting Hat put Harry in Slytherin so he's a Slytherin."

"Harry's a celebrity," Theodore said as if that explained everything. "You've got to account for the special treatment."

"Well…Why didn't Dumbledore try anything the first two months of school then?" Draco demanded.

"Maybe this kind of a situation has never come up before and he needed to find a way to switch Harry's house," Theodore suggested.

Pansy giggled.

"What?" Harry asked her.

She shook her head. "Oh, nothing."

Draco switched his attention over to her. "Come on! Tell us!"

"I just got a mental picture of Dumbledore threatening the Sorting Hat," Pansy explained before bursting into another fit of giggles.

The others laughed as well.

"So is he physically threatening him or just using words? Or magic?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore punching out the Sorting Hat!" Draco exclaimed.

"Dumbledore tying up the Sorting Hat and threatening to leave it there until he either cracks or next year's feast!" Theodore added.

"Dumbledore tying the Sorting Hat to the railroad tracks," Harry offered. "Like those villains in old muggle movies."

Pansy nodded. "Oh, the Hogwarts Express tracks! And there won't be a train there until December!"

Daphne just rolled her eyes at them. "Oh, please. He would totally hold it upside down outside of his window and shake it until he got his answer."

* * *

When Harry entered Dumbledore's office – the password being "skittles" – his eyes were immediately drawn to the shabby old Sorting Hat. He hadn't seen it in awhile but while he didn't _think_ it looked noticeably worse than it had the day of his sorting, there was no denying that the thousand-year-old hat could very well have been put through any number of the things that they'd been talking about earlier.

He quickly glanced away from the Hat because it probably wouldn't impress Dumbledore if he found out that they were wondering just what he had done to that ancient Hogwarts treasure. One more reason not to look into Dumbledore's eyes then.

Harry noticed the occupants of the room for the first time. Dumbledore was there, of course, but he wasn't alone. Snape, Gilderoy, and – surprisingly – Remus and Sirius were all standing near Dumbledore's desk and staring at him.

"Sirius, Remus, what a lovely surprise," Harry said brightly, smiling at them. "But I'm afraid I don't understand what you're doing here."

Snape snorted. "Typical. You drive the adults in your life half-mad with worry and you don't even understand why they're here."

"I'm not half-mad with worry," Gilderoy spoke up.

Dumbledore frowned disapprovingly at him. "So I've noticed."

Blithely, Gilderoy continued. "But then, I have a great deal of faith in Harry. It stands to reason that since I know him better than anyone that I'd know that he can take care of himself when he finds himself in situations that might be too much for normal students."

"Yes, but _still_," Dumbledore said, his frown deepening. "Young Harry is only a first year."

"With all due respect, Professor," Harry began, well-aware that whenever anyone started a sentence with that they were about to say something that was anything _but_ respectful, "by the time that anyone knew that I had been facing the troll it was already dead and so it's perfectly reasonable for my father not to be too worried about something that didn't happen after the fact."

"That is true," Dumbledore conceded. "But my dear boy, when strong emotions such as love come into the mix then all the logic in the world can't stop the worry." The look he gave Gilderoy suggested that he found the lack of worry on his part to be highly suspicious.

Sirius took that moment to jump in. "Honestly, Snape, James died ten years ago! Can't you just let it go and not hate a child over a petty schoolboy grudge that he knows nothing about and has nothing to do with?"

Snape raised an eyebrow disdainfully. "Must everything come back to that for you, Black? Can't I simply like or dislike the boy based on his own actions?"

"Evidently not," Sirius muttered.

"Sirius, you said you wouldn't start trouble," Remus said quietly.

"Who's starting trouble? Not me," Sirius said innocently. "Snape's the one who just said that he disliked Harry and since Dumbledore's here we can be pretty sure that he really means 'hate.' Why is this monster allowed to be anywhere near children?"

"Because he's not a monster and is a wonderful potions master," Dumbledore explained patiently.

Harry still wasn't quite sure why he had been called there. Sirius and Remus wanted to see him after what had happened with the troll? But they weren't his guardians and it wasn't like the others had gotten a letter about their parents being there. And if nothing else, from the things he had heard about Draco's parents and Blaise's mother they would most definitely have jumped at the chance to come.

Sirius laughed incredulously but Remus quickly stepped on his foot so he closed his mouth again. After a moment he said, "Well why is he here now then?"

"As Potter's Head of House I have every right to be here," Snape said calmly. "And I never said that I disliked Potter."

"Oh?" Remus asked, intrigued. "Does that mean that you two are getting along?"

"I am fond, in my own way, of each and every one of my Slytherins," Snape declared.

Harry seriously doubted that this really applied to him but contradicting a teacher in front of these people about something stupid like that wouldn't be in any way a good plan.

Harry decided to get the conversation back on track. "So you two were worried about me and came down here in order to see for yourself that I was okay?"

Remus nodded. "Yes, we did. We read about what happened in the Daily Prophet and so contacted Dumbledore immediately."

"And we're not pleased that we had to hear about this from Rita Skeeter," Sirius said grimly.

"Rita Skeeter is a very lovely woman and a dear friend," Gilderoy said loyally.

"Well I've never met her but I know that she's a sensationalist writer and after reading all about that, how could we _not_ be worried?" Sirius demanded.

"It's different for you because you were able to see for yourself that he was alright the minute you heard," Remus explained. "We're sorry if this visit is inconveniencing anyone but we just had to see."

Harry felt a slightly flash of guilt. Sirius and Remus might not be his guardians and he might not know them very well but they did care about him and they had been worried. Maybe he should have let them know in advance? It hadn't occurred to them that they might like to know but now it seemed kind of obvious. "I'm sorry, I had no idea that it was going to make the front page of today's paper."

"There were several pictures of you and Pansy Parkinson in the article, including one where you're posing with the troll!" Sirius exclaimed.

"I-I'm sorry, I've never really done anything to end up in the newspaper and so I must not have realized what a big deal that was," Harry apologized. "And I would have let you know only…I didn't want to worry you. I'm fine. Really, everyone's making a far bigger deal out of it than they should so it sounds worse than it is. Pansy got to the troll before it could go anywhere near me."

Sirius immediately softened. "Well, yeah, I can understand that. I never liked letting my parents know when I got up to anything exciting either though that was for completely different reasons and it was never anything like killing a troll."

"We appreciate your concern, Harry," Remus agreed. "It shows that you're a very thoughtful young man but it's not your job to protect the adults around you and in the future we'd like to know, even if you think that we'll only worry."

Harry looked down. "I will. I promise." Well, he would if it made the newspaper again, at least. Lesser things like his stunt with the broom a few weeks back really didn't need to be mentioned. It wouldn't make them happy and he might have to put up with a lecture or something.

"Well I'm glad to see that that's been settled," Gilderoy said cheerfully, clearly looking to get rid of the pair. He liked Remus well enough but Sirius and his eerily accurate accusations about him and his desire for Harry's guardianship rubbed him the wrong way.

"Yeah, I suppose," Sirius agreed reluctantly. "Harry, we will see you over Christmas, won't you? I know that Lockhart must have a house for you here in Britain but I know you've been abroad for most of your life so perhaps it's not quite a home."

"I'd be happy to spend some time with you over the break," Harry agreed, ignoring the annoyance that flashed briefly over Gilderoy's face. The way Sirius had asked hadn't really left him any way to refuse and it wasn't like he'd really _mind_ spending a few days with friends of his father. He wouldn't mind spending them with friends of his mother, either, but he only knew of two and Snape was right out. Maybe Neville could introduce him to his mother at some point?

"Gilderoy, if you'd show Remus and Sirius out? They could probably find their own way but I don't want to start the precedent of allowing non-staff members to wander the halls unaccompanied," Dumbledore explained sensibly.

Gilderoy hesitated, clearly torn between his desire to get Sirius out of there and his reluctance to leave Harry alone with Dumbledore. Eventually, he nodded and left, Sirius and Remus bidding Harry farewell before trailing along behind their appointed escort.

"I've got essays to grade," Snape declared the minute Gilderoy had left and swept from the room leaving Harry alone with Dumbledore.

He didn't mind, really. He'd never really been alone with his headmaster before but he doubted that the older man would do anything illicit like forcibly attempt to read his mind or anything.

"Was that all, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked politely.

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid that I must ask you to spare me a few more minutes of your time, Harry."

"Certainly," Harry agreed pleasantly.

"So you've been at the castle for two months now. My, the time really has flown, hasn't it?" Dumbledore asked fondly. "So how are you liking Hogwarts so far, Harry?"

"It's been a great experience," Harry replied. "I really like my classmates and the classes are pretty interesting."

"Except History of Magic?" Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Harry, who thanks to the system he and the other Slytherins had in place hadn't attended many of the actual classes, shrugged. "I don't mind it all that much."

"That's good because I'm afraid that there is really no escaping it until at least after your OWLs," Dumbledore replied. "And I'm so glad to learn that you are fitting into Slytherin well. I had worried about your making friends there but now I see that there was no need to."

Harry wondered what Dumbledore would say if he asked him why he was supposed to have problems in Slytherin. He probably wouldn't openly call Slytherin the evil house or blame the relatives of Death Eaters for their actions. In fact, he wasn't sure of any politically correct reason he could use.

"And how does it feel to be sharing a castle with your father?" Dumbledore inquired.

"It's great," Harry replied, smiling. "I really wanted to come to Hogwarts but I was worried about missing him and now I have an extra year with him. Plus, I know that the fact there's always a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor means that you don't always get the best teacher and I know how talented my father is."

"Good, that's good," Dumbledore replied, also smiling. "We've had professors with children here before, you know. It's not common because being a Hogwarts professor is a much larger time commitment than most other professions and so our staff often don't have families but every so often a Defense professor will come by or someone whose youngest child is off to Hogwarts will join us. I'm glad to report that I haven't heard any accusations of favoritism."

"I'm glad, sir," Harry said politely, waiting for Dumbledore to get to his real point.

Sure enough, Dumbledore leaned forward then. "Harry, my boy, have you given any more thought to that discussion we had over the summer about your living arrangements?"

It unnerved Harry a little that Dumbledore persisted in calling him 'Harry' and 'my boy' when he didn't seem to address any of the other students like that and the only professor to do so was his father. It made him feel like Dumbledore was trying to claim some sort of control over him and, more to the point, his living arrangements.

Harry scrunched his face up. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite remember."

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. "Yes, I suppose it was quite some time ago. I myself am unsure how much I told you but what you need to know is that even though Voldemort has been defeated and missing these past ten years, he is most assuredly not dead. He'll have heard how everyone believes that you as a baby killed him and he will come after you. His followers either ended up in Azkaban or denounced Voldemort entirely but that doesn't mean that their loyalty is gone. At any moment a Death Eater or some other dark wizard might decide to come after you and I'm sorry, Harry, but you're simply not ready to stand up to even a mediocre adult wizard, let alone one with any talent."

Harry swallowed hard. As far as he could tell, nothing Dumbledore had said was false and – memory charms and glamours aside – his father wasn't really the best with magic so he couldn't be counted on to protect him if it came to that. "So you're warning me to be careful?"

"I can promise you that within the walls of Hogwarts you will always be safe," Dumbledore said solemnly. "But what about outside of Hogwarts? You can't stay here forever."

"My father's house already has some of the best security charms on it," Harry told him.

"That won't be enough if they're really serious," Dumbledore said apologetically. "And it won't be any good if you're not in the house anyway."

"Then what do you suggest?" Harry inquired, keeping his voice as steady as he could.

"You have an aunt," Dumbledore reminded him. "She is a Muggle but her house is anonymous and because your mother died to save you, as long as you're under the same roof as her or your cousin then no magic can harm you and no one magical seeking to harm you can get in."

"I…understand your concern for my safety, sir, and don't think that I don't appreciate it but my aunt has already signed away all her legal rights. She really doesn't want me," Harry said frankly.

Dumbledore waved his hand as if this were merely a trifle to be dealt with at some later date. "I'm sure that she can be made to see reason. It is your life at stake, after all."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to decline your offer," Harry said, hoping he sounded sufficiently sincere. Dumbledore might be scaring him a little but he was in Hogwarts now and he knew he could never survive at 4 Privet Drive even should his aunt accept him.

"But Harry, think of your safety," Dumbledore protested.

"I am. But I'm also thinking of my family and of my happiness and I think that I can be safe enough the way things are now," Harry told him firmly. "I've been safe enough so far so either the threat to my safety isn't as bad as you feared or my father has managed to do a good job of protecting me. Either way, I'd like to stay with him."

"Harry, please be reasonable," Dumbledore implored. "You're making a mistake and I don't want to see anything happen to you."

"It won't," Harry said with more confidence than he actually felt. How many mysterious evil-doers that he'd never seen any indication of could there possibly _be_ out to get him? He knew that once he left the office he'd feel much better. "Now, I'm sorry sir but I'm supposed to meet my friends in the library. We have a project…"

"Oh, of course," Dumbledore said graciously, nodding his acquiescence. "Do think on what I've said, Harry, and make sure to let me know the minute you should change your mind."

"I will," Harry promised, knowing that there was zero chance of that happening.

He glanced at the Sorting Hat again and wondered what he was going to tell his friends. Chances were, Dumbledore was refusing to feed the poor thing.

Review Please!


	21. Secret's Out

Chapter Twenty-One: Secret's Out

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"You're Ron's brothers, aren't you?" Harry said as he approached the Weasley twins who had been doing something suspicious-looking in a corner of the castle. He then mentally kicked himself. He may have been an only child himself but he had learned from speaking with others (Ron, in particular) that people did not always appreciate being referred to as so-and-so's sibling.

"We might be," one of the twins said.

"But we've always secretly suspected that Mum found him on our doorstep one evening," the other said.

The first twin shook his head wistfully. "She never could resist a stray."

"I'm Harry, in case you didn't remember," Harry introduced.

The twins exchanged an amused glance. "We know," they chorused.

"I'm sorry but I'm not really sure which of you is which. If you could let me know which names you're currently answering to then that would be great," Harry told them.

"I'm George," George him. "And what do you mean by which names we're currently answering to. Why not ask us what our names are?"

"Well, I have no way of knowing if you'd be honest about that or just use the other's name to mess with me," Harry explained.

"Would we do that?" Fred asked innocently.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know you two nearly well enough to judge."

"Great idea, though," George remarked.

"So what can we do for you?" Fred asked him. "Assuming you had some other reason to stop by besides making sure that we knew who you were."

"Though we are certainly good people to know so we wouldn't blame you if that were it," George added.

"I need some advice," Harry admitted.

Twins sets of eyebrows shot up simultaneously.

"Oh?" George asked, intrigued.

"Yeah. You see, my father went to school around the same time as my biological parents and I recently found out from him that Professor Snape was my mother's best friend," Harry explained. "I was wondering if that information might cause anyone to think that Professor Snape was giving me preferential treatment. I mean, I'm already a Slytherin and he's always been my favorite teacher."

The Weasley twins looked like Christmas had come early.

"Perhaps you'd better give us all of the details," Fred suggested.

"Just so, you know, we can make sure to give you the best advice possible," George added slyly.

* * *

Gilderoy was in a meeting with the headmaster when Snape burst in, his black robe whipping around him. It was quite dramatic and Gilderoy made a mental note to look into seeing if he could recreate that effect with his own robes. It would take a bit of a time commitment practicing but it would be well worth it.

Snape didn't even seem to notice him as his full attention was directed at Dumbledore. "You _said_ that you wouldn't tell anyone. We had a deal!"

"Tell anyone of what, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, frowning.

"Don't pretend you don't know!" Snape snapped. "_Somehow_ the whole school's found out about Lily. About _me_."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Severus, I can assure you that I meant what I said all those years ago. I didn't agree with your decision but I did respect it. I didn't do this."

"Oh really?" Snape demanded, his voice dripping with disdain. "Then who did? How does it 'just happen' to come out when Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts? You're the one obsessed with us getting along."

"I had rather thought that you _were_ getting along," Dumbledore said softly.

"Enough with the games!" Snape growled.

Gilderoy coughed, reluctantly drawing attention to himself. He knew what must have happened. Harry, for whatever reason (possibly just to annoy Snape which seemed to him like a very fine reason indeed), had spread the word. Since Harry had only found out through him, that meant that in some way he might be considered partially responsible for this.

Personally he didn't think that he was in any way to blame or that there was really anything wrong with mentioning a bit of historical fact. That said, he really didn't want to make an enemy of Severus Snape. Having enemies was never a good idea to begin with and having an enemy who was both a Potions Master and who could easily gain access to one's food and drink was a disaster. And then there was the fact that Snape had never been very pleasant in the first place so just having to deal with his hostility would be a headache.

Snape turned his glare on him.

"I've really got to be going," Gilderoy said hastily before all but fleeing the office.

* * *

Harry had been right to turn to the Weasley twins, it would appear. By the next morning, it seemed like there wasn't anybody in the castle who hadn't heard all about his mother's friendship with Snape. At breakfast, easily half the girl's in the castle were looking at Snape with new, sentimental eyes. If Snape noticed this then it was clear that he didn't approve because he spent the entire meal glaring at a seemingly oblivious Dumbledore. Well, it would appear that Dumbledore was the suspected source of the leak. Snape clearly wasn't happy with people knowing whether because of the reactions or for some other reason.

"Harry, how could you not tell us that Professor Snape has been showing you such blatant favoritism?" Draco demanded. "I mean, really, if you can't tell us then who can you tell?"

"Well Draco, if it's so blatant than why would I need to tell you at all?" Harry asked reasonably.

Draco sighed theatrically and rolled his eyes. "You didn't _have_ to tell me but I would have appreciated hearing it from you just the same!"

"I don't know," Theodore said thoughtfully. "I just don't buy it."

"Oh, _that_ you won't believe," Pansy said, shaking her head. "Just admit that you're a contrarian and move on."

"Never!" Theodore vowed.

"Shocking," Pansy muttered.

"I'm just saying that if that's what blatant favoritism looks like then I want nothing to do with it," Theodore insisted.

"You're killing it," Draco complained.

"Harry, you're aware that we have Potions today, right?" Daphne asked him. "Maybe you should find some excuse for not being there."

"Because then people will know to look for all the favoritism that's apparently going on?" Blaise drawled.

"I was going to say so he can get through today without being buried in detentions but whatever reason gets him to not go to class today works for me," Daphne replied with a shrug.

"You realize that if you're saying that you don't think Snape favors Harry then that means that you are agreeing with Theodore, right?" Pansy pointed out.

Draco smirked and shook his head. "I always knew you were a strange one…"

Daphne looked mildly disturbed at that before composing herself. "I'll live."

"Hey Harry," Neville said, appearing behind him. He still remained the only Gryffindor to go anywhere near the Slytherin table. The others couldn't decide if he was just more Gryffindor-ish than the average Gryffindor or if he were trying to spy for them. Either way, they didn't like it. "We really need to talk to you so if you can meet me and Hermione in the library during our free time then that would be great."

"Really, Neville?" Draco asked. "Really?"

"Really do I want to meet with Harry in the library?" Neville asked, a little confused. "Um…yes. Why do you ask?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "That wasn't what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean?" Daphne inquired. "You really weren't clear, you know."

"I _mean_ that Neville here is clearly trying to cash in on the newly-revealed favoritism that Snape has towards Harry in order to make Snape hate him less for being a Gryffindor!" Draco declared grandly.

"I don't think Snape really hates me," Neville offered. "In fact, I don't think he's looked my way once outside of roll call."

"Make whatever excuses you like," Draco sniffed.

"So, you'll be there, right?" Neville asked, ignoring Draco.

"I'll be there," Harry promised.

* * *

Draco must have made him promise that he wouldn't do anything stupid (well, the word he used was 'Gryffindor') a dozen times before he'd stop following Harry and let him get to his meeting in the library. He normally wouldn't have cared if Draco went but he didn't want to listen to him accusing Neville and Hermione of trying to get in good with Snape through him again. He seemed to be enjoying the joke just a little too much.

Hermione and Neville were already there when he arrived. Hermione appeared to be revising an essay and Neville was building an igloo out of crumpled up pieces of parchment.

"You're late," Hermione noted, not looking up.

"Sorry about that," Harry said apologetically. "Draco wanted to talk to me and I couldn't come here until I was done with him."

"No problem," Hermione said, putting her essay away. "You gave me some time to touch up on our Charms assignment."

Neville drew back. "We have a Charms assignment? When is it due?"

"In about three hours," Hermione informed him.

"I…don't remember anything about this," Neville admitted.

"We got it two weeks ago," Hermione told him. "I keep telling you to get a planner but will you listen?"

"And I keep telling _you_ that I don't need a planner because you'll always remind me about these things anyway," Neville countered.

"Then why are you only finding out about the assignment now?" Hermione challenged.

Neville paused. "…It's not due for three hours!"

"So while you work on that, how about Hermione tells me what you guys wanted to talk to me about?" Harry suggested.

Neville waved him off. "Please, I can do it later. It'll take twenty minutes, thirty tops."

"It took me a _week_," Hermione informed him frostily.

Neville shrugged. "Hey, I'm just looking to pass the assignment."

"Guys? Focus," Harry instructed.

"Sorry," Hermione apologized. "Neville was…well, I'm not exactly sure what he was doing but he came across a Cerberus in the forbidden third floor corridor. We brought it up with Hagrid because we figured that if anyone would know about something like that it would be him because he's interested in any number of strange and magical creatures." She stopped and looked to Harry for his reaction.

Harry groaned. "Your lives are _way _more interesting than mine is! A Cerberus in the school? Lucky!"

"It almost ate me," Neville said proudly.

"I find that hard to believe," Hermione said dryly.

"It was at least considering it," Neville insisted.

"I suppose I wasn't there," Hermione conceded. "But what do you _mean_ our lives are more 'interesting' than yours? If by 'interesting' you mean 'dangerous' than what do you call facing down a troll? You made the paper for that!"

"That I did," Harry agreed, satisfied. "But that was just a one-time thing. You guys are figuring out a mystery!"

"You can help us," Neville offered. "That's actually why we asked to talk to you anyway."

"You want me to figure out why there's a Cerberus in the school?" Harry asked doubtfully. "I mean, I'll do my best but I really wouldn't know where to start."

"No, no, we already know that part," Hermione said a bit impatiently. "Like I said, we spoke with Hagrid. He mostly just told us to mind our own business but he did let slip that the dog was his and he lent it to Dumbledore to guard something and that whatever it was was between himself and someone called Nicolas Flamel. We hit a dead end with him, though."

Harry blinked. Nicolas Flamel, really? He let a slow smile spread across his face. "As it happens, I think I can help you out here."

Hermione's eyes bulged out. "No. There is _no way_ that we've spent weeks looking into this and you already know!"

"Why did you wait weeks before asking me?" Harry asked, puzzled and a little hurt.

"It's nothing personal," Neville was quick to explain. "This just sounds really top-secret and so we're only telling people we have to. We were just hoping that you'd know of somewhere new we could research or maybe get us access to the restricted section since your father's a professor."

"Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?" Hermione asked eagerly.

Harry nodded. "He's a personal hero of my father's, actually."

"So he's some big hero?" Neville asked.

"In a way," Harry said slowly. "He created a philosopher's stone, you know, and is the only man alive today to have one. He's several hundred years old, he and his wife."

"And he's your father's hero?" Hermione prompted.

Harry nodded. "Oh, yes. He finds the idea of everlasting life and money to be quite inspiring. I mean, once you've got that then you can pretty much do whatever you want, right? Imagine all the good you could do with unlimited resources." Or all the fame it would bring you.

Hermione nodded. "I can see that. Do you think…could this possibly mean…No, it couldn't…"

"You think that Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel are hiding the Philosopher's Stone in a school full of children?" Neville asked bluntly.

Hermione winced. "I have heard that there's no safer place than Gringott's except perhaps Hogwarts and wasn't there news of a break-in awhile back?"

"I don't know that I'd say that a school full of children is a safe place to store anything that you think might not be safe at Gringott's," Harry disagreed. "I mean, yeah Dumbledore is here and all and the castle has a lot of secrets or whatever but think of the risk! If anyone would try and take it then all of the students would be at risk. I don't believe that Dumbledore would do that."

"Don't believe or don't _want_ to believe?" Neville asked shrewdly.

"I'm going to be here for the next six months and then for nine months the six years after that," Harry said flatly. "I really can't _afford_ to believe that he would do something like that."

"I don't want to believe it either, Harry," Hermione said grimly. "But whether we believe it or not won't change whether or not the Philosopher's Stone is hidden in Hogwarts."

"I'd have more peace of mind, though," Harry pointed out. "And it's not like me knowing or not will make any difference."

"The Philosopher's Stone's presence – if, indeed, that's what it is – is a big secret here, right?" Hermione reasoned. "We only deduced that it's here because Neville found the Cerberus and we talked to Hagrid who let slip about Nicolas Flamel. Anyone who knows who Flamel is should be able to figure out what's probably here but they wouldn't know that _anything_ is being hidden here, much less something as important as the Philosopher's Stone."

"That's a good point but the fact remains that three first years were able to work it out," Neville countered. "And I don't know who they think is after it but if they know that it's been moved and that Flamel has a link to Dumbledore then it might occur to them that it's here. Or maybe they just heard about the third floor corridor being forbidden and are curious. Hagrid isn't here all the time; sometimes he goes to Hogsmeade and anyone magical can go there. If _we_ can get him to talk then maybe someone else could, too."

"This is all so unlikely," Harry protested.

"You're probably right," Neville agreed readily enough. "And if nothing happens then we've got nothing to worry about. But if something _does_ happen then we need to be ready."

"Three first year students?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Why not? You and the other first year Slytherins killed a troll," Hermione pointed out.

"That was an emergency situation!" Harry exclaimed. "There wasn't _time_ to get an adult."

"I would have thought, with your father, that you'd be more on board with this," Neville said a bit reprovingly.

"My father has always advocated making sure that you knew what you were doing before getting yourself into dangerous situations," Harry defended. "Having someone unprepared, like, say…us isn't going to end well."

"It's not like we're planning on doing anything stupid," Hermione insisted. "We just want to know what we're up against. You know, just in case."

'Just in case' indeed. He knew there was a reason he was happy to be in Slytherin.

Review Please!


	22. Actions and Consequences

Chapter Twenty-Two: Actions and Consequences

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry did actually seriously consider not going to Potions class but _no one_ missed Potions class. Even the ill or injured had to be barred from coming by Madam Pomfrey who sent Snape a note to that effect. It wasn't that everybody really enjoyed Potions (though he was sure that there were some twisted souls who did, probably in Slytherin) but Snape could be kind of…vindictive when he had a mind to be.

It was why it took Harry a lot longer to start actively antagonizing the man (not that he was ever going to actually admit that was what he was doing) than it would have normally. And it wasn't even that Harry disliked him because he really didn't. In fact, he found the whole situation rather amusing. Just the same, it was quite clear that Snape _really_ hadn't wanted the news about his friendship with Harry's mother to get all over school.

Harry hadn't actually realized that it was supposed to be some big secret when he 'accidentally' had that spread across the school; he just thought that reminding everyone would annoy Snape and it certainly had. He wasn't even sure _how_ it had ended up being some big secret since according to Gilderoy they had hung out openly pretty much every day for five straight years. Still, he wasn't going to really risk Snape's wrath by meeting his eyes anytime soon and risk Snape using Legilimency against him. He had checked and it wasn't actually legal to be used against students but he didn't think that that would stop Snape…or Dumbledore for that matter. That particular law had originated from a complaint one Tom Riddle had made against Dumbledore. Nothing had been proven because it was notoriously difficult to prove these things but it could only benefit Harry and it was ironic as hell how that had come to be.

Harry knew that not realizing that it was a huge secret wouldn't save him from Snape's wrath and he was likely to face it even if Snape never suspected he was involved in the rumor spreading. And honestly, he probably would have done it if he had known. It was a pretty public friendship, after all.

This would be his second Potions class since the incident and the first one had really freaked him out. He wasn't sure if it was a coincidence or – more likely – Snape was trying to drive him insane. Snape had decided not to address the issue that day and had simply ignored Harry the entire time. He hadn't even called him on the roll. Harry half-way wondered if Snape simply couldn't see him (but then why not call him?) but he certainly wasn't going to push his luck finding out.

If Snape had been hoping that not reacting would get things to die down faster than it hadn't worked. But then Harry didn't know if Snape could have reacted in _any_ way that would have quieted things down.

The general consensus was that Snape wasn't upset that everyone was gossiping about his school days only because it was Harry's mother they were talking about and he was such a fan of Harry's. Snape had not looked pleased to hear that and he had – reluctant though he was to admit it – taken to hiding avoiding Snape.

But now it was Potions and he was about to find out if Snape's tactics had changed. He hadn't dared risk being late (or even being early or on time but arriving after Snape) and so had gotten to the dungeons a good twenty minutes before class had started and was now counting down the minutes until class started. In a way he didn't want it to arrive but in a way he did because surely it couldn't be as bad as his imagination and the sooner class started the sooner it would be over. Until the next class, of course.

His friends were, fortunately, actually being good friends and doing their best to distract him. If they hadn't been his friends then they wouldn't have been taunting him about it, of course.

"Blaise, what in the world are you wearing?" Pansy demanded.

Blaise frowned at her, seemingly oblivious of the bright yellow monstrosity on top of his head. "I'm not sure what you mean. This is the same style of robes I wear every day."

"Same _style_ of course because you have different robes for every day of the week," Tracy said, rolling her eyes.

"I just want to make sure that I don't wear the same thing every day," Blaise explained. "That's just…really unclean. Is that so wrong?"

"We don't wear the same clothes every day and the House Elves take care of them," Draco pointed out. "We just don't need as many as you apparently do."

"You can never be too careful," Blaise insisted.

"Don't sell yourself short," Harry told him. "You've done a wonderful job proving otherwise."

Blaise just rolled his eyes.

"Don't be alarmed but I think that something might be eating your head," Theodore said worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm still not getting it," Blaise said apologetically.

Daphne's eyes narrowed. "You're just messing with us, aren't you?"

"I'm a little hurt by these accusations," Blaise said, completely avoiding the question.

"Fine," Draco said, nodding. "If you won't tell us then we'll find somebody who will. Theodore?"

"If it's not something eating his head then I'm afraid I don't know," Theodore answered with a shrug.

"Daphne?"

"Stop lumping me in with him!" Daphne requested. "And I don't know; of course I don't know."

"You know, if none of us know then it's probably some Muggle thing," Harry said reasonably. "Hey, Hermione!"

Hermione looked up from the library book she was perusing. "Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know what that thing is on Blaise's head?" Harry asked her.

"Oh, good idea," Draco complimented. "Even if it's not Muggle, Granger's the most likely to know what it is since it's so obscure."

Hermione glanced over at Blaise and got a funny expression on her face.

"Well?" Harry pressed.

"It's a shower cap," Hermione explained. "Muggles use it when they bathe or when they go swimming if they want to keep their hair dry because they can't just cast a spell on it."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry told her.

Hermione nodded and went back to her reading.

"Muggles are so very deprived," Pansy said tragically. "But that still doesn't explain why Blaise is wearing one. We're hardly in water or in danger of getting near water and I refuse to believe that he doesn't know how to keep dry or to dry off if we were."

"I do, in fact, know spells for just those occasions and if you ever get caught outside with me when it rains you'll thank me," Blaise assured them.

"What if we get caught outside when it rains but you're not with us?" Daphne asked.

"Then why would me knowing the spells or not be at all relevant?" Blaise countered.

"Why are you wearing a Muggle shower cap?" Harry asked, deciding to be direct.

"I'm really getting sick of having to take a shower immediately before following Potions in addition to the one I take in the morning and the one I take at night," Blaise told them.

There was a silence.

"That seems a little excessive," Daphne told him finally.

"Not really," Blaise disagreed. "In the morning I need to get rid of all that oil that seeped into my hair while I was asleep. In the evening I need to get rid of whatever filth I managed to accumulate during the day. And after Potions…well, Snape's living proof of what Potions fumes will do a person's hair. I may look a little silly with this until I can figure out how to charm it black or something but it's well worth the price, I feel."

"It will still look ridiculous," Draco assured him.

"Our hair doesn't look _that_ bad after Potions," Pansy protested.

"Agree to disagree," Blaise said easily. A disgusted look came over his face. "Wait, are you guy saying that you _don't_ bathe twice a day?"

Fortunately (well, for everyone but Harry) that was when Snape chose to billow into the room. He glared at Harry so hard that he was a little surprised that there was no accompanying twinge of pain in his scar. He supposed that answered his question concerning how Snape was planning on playing it.

This time Snape did, in fact, mention Harry on the roll call.

"Potter," he snapped.

"Here, sir," Harry said respectfully.

"Five points for your cheek, Potter," Snape said automatically.

"Wow, he must be _really_ upset if he's taking away points from Slytherin," Draco said, shaking his head in amazement.

"Quiet down back there, Potter! That'll be another five points."

* * *

"It's okay, Harry," Pansy said, patting his forehead with a handkerchief. He was a bit surprised to find out that anybody still used those but he supposed if anyone would it would be one of the old families like the Parkinsons. "You'll get through this. We're almost there."

"I know that Potions was brutal, guys, but you don't need to help me walk. I can do that quite unassisted," Harry assured his friends but Theodore and Draco seemed not to hear him. Blaise had left to go inspect his hair to see if the shower cap did as he had hoped but the rest of them were quite determined to escort him to the Hospital Wing no matter _how_ many times he assured them that he was fine.

"Harry," Daphne said patiently. "He managed to take away over _three hundred points_. Houses generally don't have very many more points than that at the end of the year. If nothing else, I think we need Madam Pomfrey to make sure you won't have a nervous breakdown."

"I feel fine," Harry insisted. "But treating me like an invalid won't make me stay that way."

"Then it's a good thing we're getting you to Madam Pomfrey," Daphne retorted.

"I really can't believe that Snape would do that," Draco declared. "I mean, he didn't even have time to take any points away from the _Gryffindors_."

"Imagine what he would have done if Harry weren't a Slytherin," Theodore said.

Draco shuddered. "I'm trying not to."

"He'll probably make it up by distributing three hundred maybe not deserved points over the next few days," Daphne told them.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this but maybe you should complain," Draco said seriously. "I mean, I know that if anyone had done that to _me_ then I'd have them fired."

"You can't have someone fired, Draco," Harry pointed out. "You're a first year."

"And my dad owns the Board of Governors," Draco said dismissively. "He'd be fired; trust me."

"I really didn't think it was that bad, actually," Harry protested. "I mean, you know I don't care about House points, right? And people will be too busy feeling sorry for me to bother blaming me for what happened."

"And this sort of thinking is exactly why we're taking you to the Hospital Wing," Pansy declared.

* * *

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly.

Harry valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he did so. He couldn't believe his friends had actually taken his case to Dumbledore. Snape had been back to normal during their next Potions lesson. He hadn't managed to convince anyone of anything but that he was trying desperately not to be seen as favoring Harry and he wasn't about to start _actually_ favoring Harry so it seemed that he'd just decided to accept it for now.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry asked politely. Well, at least this time it wouldn't be about his living situation. Hopefully.

Dumbledore nodded and gestured for him to take a seat. "Lemon drop?"

"Thank you," Harry said, mostly to be polite. He peered at the candy for a moment before popping it into his mouth and really hoped that his fellow Slytherins' conspiracy theories about Dumbledore lacing the candies with truth serum or something to make you more cheerful weren't true. Not that there was anything wrong with being more cheerful, strictly speaking, but he didn't want to be forced.

"I heard about what happened in your Potions' class last week," Dumbledore said gravely. "I am a little surprised that I had to hear it from other sources and not from you, however."

Harry shrugged. "It really wasn't all that bad." If nothing else, it was more interesting than Potions normally was.

"Well your friends beg to differ," Dumbledore told him. "It's not often that the Slytherins come to me for something and I'm actually quite pleased that they did. Rest assured that I have spoken with Professor Snape and he has assured me that it will not happen again. While I do trust his word, I want you to know that if it _should_ happen again – or anything like it – do not hesitate to come to me about it. And let your friends know that they may feel free to come to me as well."

"Alright," Harry said, not really sure what to do with Dumbledore when he was being a competent Headmaster and not annoying him about the Dursleys. "I'm sorry, but I really do have to go."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. Remember that my door is always open."

* * *

"I must say, Harry, that when I told you about your mother and Snape I really hadn't expected so much to come from it," Gilderoy said conversationally. "I do hope you've thoroughly enjoyed the small scandal."

Harry grinned. "I have, actually, but none of my friends will believe me."

Gilderoy beamed at him. "I'm pleased that you're getting some experience in causing a scandal without letting people know you did it or looking bad yourself. I didn't start getting into that until I was much older."

"Well, I did have an excellent teacher," Harry said modestly.

"Just make sure not to push Snape _too_ hard," Gilderoy cautioned. "It may not end well."

"I won't," Harry promised.

"Now what was it that you wanted to tell me?" Gilderoy questioned. "Unless you just wished to discuss this, of course."

Harry shook his head. "Actually, I wanted to know if you had heard anything about Professor Dumbledore hiding the Philosopher's Stone in Hogwarts."

If Gilderoy was surprised, his long practice of suddenly being presented with facts that he had not known but was supposed to kept his expression perfectly neutral. "I had not. Are you saying he is?"

"Well…I'm saying that Hermione and Neville have been poking around the forbidden third floor corridor and found a Cerberus and asked Hagrid about it who claimed that whatever was there was between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel. When they told me about it I immediately thought of the Philosopher's Stone," Harry explained.

"That does seem like a reasonable conclusion," Gilderoy agreed. "But it does sound terribly unsafe. Children go to school here. You and I have to _live_ here!"

"Do you think we should tell anyone?" Harry asked anxiously. "Anonymously, of course, so we don't have to deal with the fallout from Dumbledore."

Gilderoy considered the matter. "I don't think that would be wise. Dumbledore might not even move it, trusting his traps to protect the stone. And even if it _does_ then announcing it to the world would probably make more people than just whoever is after the stone now attempt to get it. Even the current would-be thief might hurry up and invade the castle before Dumbledore has a chance to move it."

"And telling Dumbledore that we know so he should move it won't work because he thinks he knows what's best for everyone," Harry mused.

"He might even Obliviate us," Gilderoy added.

"So...that's it?" Harry couldn't believe it. "We just ignore it?"

"I suppose we did," Gilderoy agreed. "And who knows? Maybe whoever is after it will never discover where it is and the threat will pass."

"One can only hope," Harry said, not having a very good feeling about the whole situation. "Are you tempted?"

"To go after the stone, you mean?" Gilderoy asked, taken aback. "Hm…no, not really."

"Why not?" Harry asked. "You always talk about how great it would be to unlimited money and life."

"I really don't want to try to steal something under Dumbledore's nose, particularly not with the way he's already after you," Gilderoy replied. "And, of course, I'm not _stupid_. And then…well, you'll laugh."

"I won't!" Harry promised.

"If I had a Philosopher's Stone and managed to convince the world that I had created it then that would be it," Gilderoy said slowly. "There's really no way to top that. And I must say that I enjoy writing all of these books and going around researching and claiming daring deeds. I really wouldn't have gotten into this business if I hadn't."

"You almost make that sound noble," Harry said, amazed.

Gilderoy laughed. "If nothing else, I've always been a gifted story-crafter."

Review Please!


	23. Time for a Break

Chapter Twenty-Three: Time for a Break

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

It occurred to Harry in mid-December that it was nearly Christmas. He had no idea why it had taken him so long to realize this as there had been decorations up ever since December 1st but somehow it didn't really hit home then. December 1st was, after all, still three and a half weeks away from Christmas so one couldn't afford to get too excited as that would be impossible to sustain until the day actually arrived and there would be nothing so disappointing as being super excited for Christmas in the weeks that led up to it and having no enthusiasm for Christmas itself. If it took Harry any less than four hours to fall asleep on Christmas Eve then he would be appalled at himself and his lack of interest in the best day of the year.

There were religious reasons for Christmas, sure, and technically that was _why_ they had a holiday but he was perfectly happy to celebrate any holiday celebrating anything and celebrated _by_ anyone as long as he got the chance to get and give out presents. Though giving presents was much more fun when he got to watch people open them than when he just had to be content knowing that they had opened them and hoping that they would bring up the gift so he didn't have to find a way of sneaking it into conversation without making it seem like he wanted to be praised for his gift-giving prowess. Since he really did want to be praised for his gift-giving prowess, this was made especially complicated but he wasn't raised by Gilderoy Lockhart for nothing.

"So is anyone actually staying for Christmas?" Draco asked curiously one day when they had all managed to grab chairs by the fire. They pointedly ignored the rest of the house that was glaring at them. Everyone always glared at the people who got chairs by the fire because even when the weather was nice, the Slytherin Common Room's location meant that it still rather cold there. And if you left your seat for a _second_ without having a trustworthy friend who wouldn't' steal your seat saving your spot (and those were hard to come by. Draco could usually get Crabbe and Goyle to help him out but everyone else was on their own) then your seat was just gone.

Pansy looked at him liked he'd lost his mind. "Why would _anyone_ want to stay at school over _Christmas_? I mean, that's pretty much admitting that you're not wanted at home."

"Or maybe just that you don't want to go home and get to know your new stepdad because your mother hinted that you two would take a trip – just the two of you – over the summer and you know what that means," Blaise suggested.

"You know you're the _only_ one who ever has that problem, right?" Daphne asked him.

"I wasn't aware that our alternate reasons for not wanting to come home had to be reasons that everyone shared," Blaise said stiffly. "Especially seeing as how most of us are coming home for the holidays."

"So are you staying at Hogwarts?" Harry asked him.

Blaise shook his head. "I was thinking about it but the whole idea of staying at school over the holidays…it's just too depressing. I can just ignore Andrew."

"Your new stepfather's name is actually Peter," Tracy corrected.

"Huh. Which one was Andrew then?" Blaise asked.

"He was two stepfather's ago. Your last one was Michael," Tracy informed him.

"Out of curiosity, does anyone see anything weird about Tracy knowing Blaise's family situation better than Blaise does?" Harry wondered.

"It's easier to remain unattached if I don't differentiate between them," Blaise explained. "It's always been my mother, my stepfather, and I. My various stepfathers all just sort of combine in my head into the one."

"That doesn't sound very healthy," Daphne said dubiously.

"And how, exactly, does one deal with my mother's parade of extremely unfortunate husbands?" Blaise inquired.

Daphne paused. "You know, maybe I spoke too soon."

"That's what I thought," Blaise said, satisfied.

"I'm heading home," Daphne told them.

"Are you going to go out and do weird muggle things?" Draco asked, fascinated.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I doubt I'll be seeing my cousin, no. What kind of weird muggle things do you expect people get up to, anyway?"

"I…" Draco trailed off, thinking. "Witch burning?"

"You fail at muggles so very badly," Harry said bluntly.

"Hey, I can't even take Muggle Studies until third year!" Draco said defensively.

"Will you be taking it?" Theodore asked.

"Wasn't planning on it, no," Draco replied.

"I'm going home, too. Although by 'home' I really mean Paris," Tracy told them.

"I'm going home, too," Theodore informed them.

"Will you be spending your time off aiding Miss Lovegood in seeking out the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" Draco asked innocently.

Theodore made a face at him. "Somehow, I think she'll manage fine on her own."

"Do I even want to know?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"I have this cousin, Luna Lovegood," Draco explained. "Her father runs the Quibbler."

"Ah," Harry said, understanding immediately.

"So you'll be staying at school at least, right Harry?" Tracy asked him. "I mean, your father lives here as well so you don't really need to go home."

"None of us really _need_ to go home," Harry replied. "And yet we all are. Nine months is a long time to be cooped up in one place, even a giant castle. And we promised Sirius and Remus that we'd stop in and see them. I'm also hoping to finally meet Neville's mother."

Draco made a face. "I don't see why. She's a total Hufflepuff."

"I thought she was in Gryffindor," Daphne said, frowning.

"She was. That doesn't stop her from being a total Hufflepuff," Draco said dismissively.

"I'm pretty sure that it _does_, actually," Daphne argued.

"I'm using 'Hufflepuff' as an adjective, not a description of what house she was in," Draco said wearily.

"But if she was _in_ Gryffindor then wouldn't she, by default, be-" Daphne started to say.

Draco groaned. "My God, Daphne, let it go!"

"Remus and Sirius…" Theodore said slowly. "Aren't they those two people who want to kidnap you and get custody away from your father?"

"Actually…yes," Harry said, immensely surprised that Theodore was right. A little disturbed, too, as he wondered if Theodore was ever right about anything else. He really shouldn't drive himself crazy with that, though. "That's more Sirius than Remus, though."

"And you…think spending time with them is a good idea?" Daphne couldn't believe it.

Harry shrugged. "Well, I figure that unless I go then Sirius might actually strike."

* * *

It wasn't that Harry was vowing to never ride the Hogwarts Express with Hermione on his way away from school ever again, more like he was vowing to think long and hard about whether he could stand to hear obsessing about how exams went before he agreed to ride with her. He wondered if she was like that all the time. He only had the one class with Hermione and wasn't in her house so she was either always that obsessive or else he had caught her at a really bad time.

He technically hadn't even needed to take the Hogwarts Express but he had had fun on the way to school and didn't want to miss out by taking the Floo with his father (as much as he loved the man, he would not willingly Side-along Apparate with him. Not unless his life depended on it and even then he'd have to consider just how _much_ his life depended on it).

Fortunately, Neville wasn't interested in going over all of their answers for the third time despite the fact that Harry didn't remember most of the questions and wasn't sure about all of his answers.

"I just don't see why this is so difficult," Hermione was saying. "I'm not asking you to recreate what you wrote word for word. I just think that if you knew the answer then then you'll know it now and I can't really see you looking up the answers you got wrong given how…disinterested you seem to be."

"Oh, you noticed then?" Harry asked, surprised.

Hermione nodded. "Of course I have. But you're not so disinterested that you'll leave the compartment and I can work with that."

Harry moved to stand up.

"Sit back down," she ordered.

Harry did.

"So like I was saying," Hermione continued, "if I just ask you the same question and you have the same knowledge then why can't you give approximately the same answer?"

"Because we promptly Obliviated ourselves after the exam was over," Neville said matter-of-factly. "In preparation for your questions, of course."

"Neville!" Hermione scolded. "You really shouldn't joke about Obliviation! It's very difficult to do correctly and a lot of the long-term spell damage victims fell victim to Obliviation. And then there's all the hidden crimes that are probably covered up by a successful Obliviation."

Harry determinedly did not think of his father. "Oh, that must be terrible."

"It _is_!" Hermione said passionately.

"I smell a new cause brewing…" Neville said ominously.

"New cause?" Harry asked curiously.

Neville rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't know because you're not in Gryffindor but Hermione likes to take up causes. And usually found them, too, because no one else cares."

Hermione crossed her arms and frowned at him. "It's not _my_ fault that no one else seems to care that so much is wrong with Magical Britain."

"I wish you wouldn't be so judgmental, Hermione," Neville told her.

"And _I_ wish that I wouldn't have to be," Hermione shot back. "But anyway, Harry, what did you put for number seventeen on History of Magic?"

"There was a seventeen on our History of Magic exam?" Harry asked, blinking. "…There _was_ a History of Magic exam?"

"See, told you," Neville said knowingly. "Self-Obliviation."

"You two are not nearly as funny as you think you are," Hermione complained but she was fighting a smile.

"I would hope not," Neville said, shuddering. "Because that is almost an _unhealthy_ amount of funny."

"What was the question?" Harry asked.

"What common themes run through the goblin rebellions?" Hermione repeated.

"Wizards being stupid and trusting an oppressed people with their money and then making no noticeable changes even though it keeps causing all these rebellions," Harry said immediately. "Somehow I stretched that out for three paragraphs."

"I don't know, though," Neville said slowly. "I mean, let's all agree that oppression is wrong and everything but goblins are really powerful and have magic that we don't fully – or remotely – understand even without wands. Once we gave them that, after all the crap we've put them through would it surprise you at all if they turned the tables on us and started being the oppressors?"

"They wouldn't do that!" Hermione huffed. "Honestly, you've spent too much time in this culture."

"It's the culture I was born into," Neville said dryly. "And you're ignoring how incredibly spiteful and vengeful goblins can be."

"Now you're just stereotyping," Hermione accused.

"I don't know," Harry spoke up. "One time a few years back I tripped and fell on a goblin and over the summer I found out that he had transferred to Gringott's and you should have _seen_ the look he gave me. And I swear our cart went about three times as fast as the carts normally go. Fun fact: when you're hurtling around on tracks and throw up then you keep moving and it lands right in your face."

Hermione made a face. "Lovely."

"You think just hearing about it is bad?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Try living through it."

"I can't believe we're actually talking about history on our break," Neville complained. "Quick, change the subject before I'm forced to Obliviate myself again and Hermione gives me a lecture and then I have to Obliviate myself _yet again_ because her lecture reminded me of what I wanted to forget in the first place."

"Whatever works for you," Hermione said, actually grinning a bit. "I do so love being an effective deterrent."

"She's more of a Prefect than some of our Prefects," Neville confided. "Though to be fair, they are _Gryffindor_ Prefects."

"You're unusually down about your house," Harry remarked.

Neville shrugged. "Am I? I like to think that I'm simply more self-aware than they are. Or at the very least more _openly_ self-aware."

Harry laughed. " 'Whatever works for you,'" he quoted.

"So, Harry, how has Potions been?" Hermione inquired. "Does Snape still hate you?"

"Are you asking if _I_ think he still hates me or if the rest of the school has cottoned on to that fact yet?" Harry asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, Harry, because I'm dying to know what everyone at the school that we both attend thinks."

"In that case then his blatant favoritism towards me is appalling and they are thinking of complaining," Harry told her.

Hermione was about to respond when the train started slowing down. "Are we really back already? That was fast."

A thought occurred to Harry. "Do you guys ever wonder how kids got to Hogwarts back before trains were invented?"

Neville discretely kicked him.

"Ow! What was that for?" Harry demanded, rubbing his shins.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Neville claimed. "But have you ever thought that maybe you shouldn't ask questions like that in front of Hermione? She'll spend her whole break doing research and make us listen to her presentation on the way back to school."

"At least you'd learn something," Hermione sniffed.

"…Harry, she didn't deny it," Neville said, casting worried glances at her.

Hermione merely smiled mysteriously.

"Sorry," Harry apologized . "When I ask that question in Slytherin someone's _bound_ to either know the answer or convincingly make it up as a point of Pureblood pride."

"I feel obligated to point out that if Ron weren't staying at school, he'd point out how evil that makes Slytherin," Neville told him.

Harry laughed. "Oh, believe me, I know."

"Know that Ron would say that or if it's true?" Hermione asked.

Neville and Harry stared at her.

"What?" she asked a bit defensively. "I can be funny, too!"

* * *

"And _this_," Neville said, weaving his way through the crowd and stopping in front of a woman that Harry recognized from her picture, "is my mother."

Alice Longbottom blinked. "And here I'd thought you'd outgrown the stage where you'd show me off to your friends."

"_Never_," Neville vowed.

"I'd ask who this was if he didn't look almost disturbingly like James Potter," Alice said fondly, holding out her hand. "Hello, Harry. I'm Alice Longbottom, Neville's mother."

"It's so nice to meet you," Harry said, shaking her hand. "I believe that you were a friend of my mother's."

Alice's eyes grew a little distant but her smile was still genuine. "I was, yes. Am I correct in thinking you'd like to talk about her one day?"

Harry nodded. "Definitely. My only other option seems to be Snape but, well…"

Alice laughed. "I quite understand. I was at Hogwarts with your parents, after all." She glanced over at Sirius and Remus who were quickly approaching. "I'm sure you'd like to spend time with the other people in your life who haven't seen you since September but I'll make sure to owl you and we can set up a date to talk."

Harry thanked her and then turned to his father's friends. 'Hadn't seen him since September', huh? Maybe if they were normal not-guardians. Or maybe if he didn't get into fights with trolls. But at most all he did was slow it down. Was it really his fault that Rita Skeeter had been called in? Well…kind of. But still!

"Does my father know you're here to get me?" Harry asked suspiciously, wondering if they'd really just try to spirit him away without letting his father know where he was going to be.

"Of course he does," Sirius said, looking a little affronted.

"Remus?" Harry asked, turning to the more responsible of the pair.

"Hey!" Sirius objected.

"It's true, Harry," Remus confirmed. "Sirius invited him to stay at his family estate in London and your father agreed. As an old Pureblood estate it has all sorts of protection on it so it's safer for you anyway."

The four of them under one roof for the duration of the break. Well, that would be something, wouldn't it?

Review Please!


	24. Settling In

Chapter Twenty-Four: Settling In

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Gilderoy wasn't sure what, exactly, had possessed the people who had created this street to call it Grimmauld Place. It was a cutesy play on words, yes, but it couldn't possibly have been accurate when it was first built nor did it seem like that would be likely to increase the property values or interest in living there. Now, however…Now the title was perfect.

12 Grimmauld Place was a very grim and old place indeed and he would be staying here with Harry and two people who sincerely wanted to re-kidnap Harry for two entire weeks. Needless to say that they would not be agreeing to such an arrangement that summer and would hopefully be able to get out of it next Christmas. He had just been taken by such surprise that he hadn't really had the presence of mind to refuse when he'd gotten this offer.

He hadn't sure what he had expected from this trip, really (aside from constant jibes from Sirius and attempts to talk Harry into wanting to leave him), but already it was rather bizarre.

He had been sent to wait down by the street in front of 11 Grimmauld Place because of all of the enchantments on 12. It was very inconveniencing if you wanted a Muggle to be able to bring takeaway right to your door but apparently this had never been a problem before Sirius had inherited the house and still it was less of a bother to just have them deliver it to the next house over instead of trying to tweak the enchantments.

Finally, just when he was about to attempt a warming charm for the for the fourth time, the food arrived and he could pay the man and go inside.

"You know, it's really weird to have to deliver it down here," the man noted. "Why can't I just bring it to your door? Do you not live there or something? I'm not sure I'm supposed to go around delivering things to people's houses if they didn't order them."

"Well you didn't deliver it to their house and they didn't pay so what does it matter?" Gilderoy said, waving the man off. He wanted to go back inside but he couldn't until the man left in case he saw Gilderoy mysteriously disappearing. Chances were that the Blacks had some sort of spell to stop Muggles from noticing that, either, but in his experience it was always better not to risk something unless you absolutely had to or the potential for reward was just that great. That was hardly the case here, of course.

Finally, casting one last suspicious look at Gilderoy, the man left. He waited until the car was safely out of sight before heading back to the house. It may have been decades now since he'd first discovered magic but he was still amazed sometimes at just what it was capable of. Not that he would ever admit that to the likes of Sirius Black, of course.

The minute he stepped into the kitchen, Sirius grabbed the food from him and started putting it on the plates.

"What took you so long?" he complained.

Gilderoy stared at him. "I had to wait for the man to arrive with the food, Sirius. You didn't order magically delivered food."

"That's because there's no such thing as magically delivered food," Sirius complained. "Everyone always figures that you can either learn the spells to prepare a decent meal yourself or you can Floo or Apparate to a proper restaurant."

"Sirius found that out the hard way after we all graduated from Hogwarts," Remus told them. "Then, just when it looked like he might actually have to start behaving like a normal person, Lily swooped in and told him all about Muggle takeaway and he's been in love ever since."

"It's not that I don't _enjoy_ Muggle pizza, Sirius," Gilderoy said carefully. In truth, he really didn't like it much. It had far too many calories for him to worry about and no one in the magical world had any idea what those even were. "I just don't understand why you had to rely on it tonight instead of asking your house elf to cook. I know I saw him earlier."

"You have a house elf?" Harry asked, his eyes wide. "That is so cool! I always wanted a house elf but Dad doesn't trust them."

"It's not that I don't _trust_ them," Gilderoy claimed. Although, really, he didn't think that he could have a house-elf around and not have them discover his secret and the less people that knew it the better. Even Harry had only been let in on it relatively recently and, while he knew that he could trust Harry, he still wasn't completely happy about that. "It's just that the very idea of another being sneaking through the house and cleaning up after you strikes me as a little…odd. It's not for me, certainly, but I have no doubt that I'm the one missing out."

"You are," Remus confirmed. "And so am I. House elves are some of the most wonderful creatures on Earth."

Sirius snorted. "House elves, maybe, but not Kreacher."

"Is that the name of your house elf?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius nodded. "It is, yes. Kreacher is terrible, though, so I don't let him cook for people other than me. I figure that he probably won't poison me since I'm the head of the Black family and the only member to still bear the name Black. Everyone else is either a Malfoy or a Lestrange or a Tonks or something."

"Can't you order him not to poison other people?" Harry asked, strangely fascinated.

Sirius nodded. "I could, I'm sure. In fact, I have just in case. But the thing about Kreacher that I've learned the hard way is that he's…well, you know the thing about genies, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. What thing about genies?"

"Remus? This is more your area than mine," Sirius told him.

"There are a lot of stories about genies and there are many differences between them," Remus began. "Still, ultimately there are three types of genies. There is the good kind or the benevolent genie. If you wish for, say, a beautiful girlfriend then this genie will give you just a regular beautiful girlfriend. This type of genie is incredibly rare."

"I should say so," Gilderoy said, not unfamiliar with the topic himself. Back before he'd gotten magic and even during some of his Hogwarts days he'd been fascinated by the idea of becoming powerful and successful with just a simple wish. "There's not much of a story if you can make all of your dreams come true with no complications."

Remus nodded. "Agreed. The most common type of genie is a literal genie. They just do their job and while their wishes often end badly it's more your responsibility because you phrased your wish poorly. They might know exactly what you meant but they will only give you what you ask for. Take the same beautiful girlfriend wish. This genie will likely give you a beautiful girlfriend who really has no other attributes. She's beautiful, yes, but she doesn't have a brain and no personality to speak of. That's really not what you were looking for."

"It might not be what most people would be looking for," Sirius objected. "I can think of a few people who would love this state of affairs. And then there's the third kind of genie, the Kreacher genie. He has elements of the literal genie, too, but mostly this third kind."

"This kind of genie – what most people would call the malevolent genie – is actively out to get you. It doesn't matter how carefully you word your wishes because it will still find a way to exploit them and try to ruin or end your life," Remus continued. "I guess some genies really resent their job and those that have the power to order them about."

"How do you ruin a wish like 'I want a beautiful girlfriend' more than the literal genie already did?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's not hard," Gilderoy replied. "There are lots of ways. Maybe she's already the girlfriend or wife of a mob boss or something. Maybe she's a wanted criminal and you're now her accomplice. Maybe she's completely crazy and has killed all of her other boyfriends. And it doesn't matter how specific you try to get because you'll never think of everything and the genie has had a lot more experience with ruining wishes than you've had at making them. The more you try to stop a bad ending from happening the worse your ending will ultimately be because the 'Kreacher genie' will resent having had to have worked so hard to hurt you."

"I'll give you an example," Sirius told him. "One time when he cooked for Remus and I, he added strawberries to the meal. It's not technically a poison but Remus is deathly allergic and he _must_ have known that because why else would he put strawberries in a steak? I'm sure Kreacher does all sorts of nasty things to my own food but he can't try to kill me."

"It probably is a good idea then to just get food from another source," Gilderoy agreed. "But why not just hire a cook then? Or get rid of Kreacher?"

"I can't get rid of Kreacher," Sirius said miserably. "He's magically bound to the house and I have no idea how to undo it. I mostly just ignore him anyway so it works out. And it's just more convenient for me to eat out or have something delivered than to get a cook."

Harry grinned. "Well, I love pizza. Good choice, Sirius."

"_Everyone_ loves pizza, Harry. Everyone but evil Slytherins," Sirius replied jovially.

"I like pizza," Harry said, quiet but firmly. "And I'm in Slytherin."

Sirius winced. "Oh…right."

"Sirius has been regularly repressing this fact," Remus explained.

"There's nothing wrong with being in Slytherin," Harry protested.

"Maybe not for _you_," Sirius said unconvincingly. "I mean, I know that _you're_ not evil. No child of James and Lily would have it in them. It's just that all of your housemates are just Death Eaters waiting to happen."

Harry frowned and crossed his arms. "They are not. They're very ni-" He cut himself off here and Gilderoy wasn't surprised. 'Nice' was not really the word he would use to describe the Slytherins either and he didn't even have a problem with them. Mostly because people always forgot that he was a Muggleborn and so he didn't have to deal with any Pureblood nonsense. "Great. They're great."

"You have inherited your mother's ability to see the best in everyone," Sirius complained.

"Isn't that, I don't know, a good thing?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Because it sounds like it would be a good thing."

"It led to your mother being friends with _Snape_ of all people for five years before she finally came to her senses!" Sirius countered. "We helped her finally come to her senses, as it happens."

Remus did not look nearly as proud of this as Sirius did. "Let's…not talk about that, shall we? I don't think Harry wants to hear that sort of thing."

Gilderoy rather agreed with this though he had actually told Harry all about it. But then, it wasn't really his concern what Harry thought of James Potter. Still, given what Harry was willing to put up with from _him_ he didn't imagine that the boy would judge his biological father too harshly for being a bully in his younger years.

"Do you think it's true that my biological father only hated Snape as much as he did because Snape had far more luck with my mother than he did?" Harry asked conversationally.

Sirius choked.

* * *

So he had made it through three days at least though honestly he had no idea how. It might not have been the _best_ idea to 'accidentally' provoke his godfather and Remus like he had at dinner the first night but the fact of the matter was that he was a Slytherin and happy with that and sick of being forced to defend that part of his life. He got the uncomfortable feeling, the way that everyone always seemed to know and talk about what house at school people were in, that this need for justification would never ever stop.

It didn't actually make any sense to him that people would still obsess over where you slept and who you took classes with at school but apparently the Hogwarts Experience wasn't going to end that easily.

Gilderoy was actually getting on fairly well with Remus. They both read a lot so that was some common ground. Granted Remus seemed to read mostly for pleasure and Gilderoy for inspiration and to make himself seem more worldly and intelligent but it had the same result.

There had been a mishap at breakfast on their second morning there when Gilderoy had tried telling Remus about that werewolf 'he' had cured. Remus didn't really want to know about a werewolf that had been cured when that cure had been lost and wasn't going to happen for him. That cure had only been lost because his father – in an uncharacteristic bit of carelessness – hadn't thought to get it before Obliviating the man who had created the cure. Of course Remus didn't know that and he doubted it plagued Gilderoy's conscience but just the same he had kicked his father under the table and then changed the subject.

Sirius was a different matter. He clearly wasn't happy that Harry was in Slytherin (something about being raised in a dark traditionally Slytherin family had convinced him that they were evil. Seeing many of the Slytherins he had gone to school with flocking to Voldemort hadn't helped) but at least he didn't mention it. Tried not to mention it. Apparently he made offhand references to the evilness of Slytherin _all the time_ even when he tried to catch himself. He actually reminded Harry a little of Ron.

Sirius had also not yet brought up Harry living with him but he did occasionally make snide comments about Gilderoy which Harry didn't really understand. Did he honestly think badmouthing Harry's father would endear him to Harry? Because it really wasn't working. Fortunately, he had dropped his far too close to the truth for comfort theory about Gilderoy and Obliviation (he sort of reminded Harry of Theodore, too, come to think of it) and so they were all breathing easier.

Christmas was in two days and the next day Remus and Sirius were planning on taking him to Diagon Alley to shop for Christmas presents. Harry hadn't had the heart to inform them that he and Gilderoy always owl-ordered everything towards the end of November to beat the rush and get it all over with. They had just looked so excited to get the chance to be doing that with him. Gilderoy was planning on 'not wasting the day pretending to shop for presents I've already bought' and so it would just be the three of them.

Well, it wasn't like money was an issue so maybe he'd buy a few more gifts just to not make it clear that he was just humoring them.

Hedwig flew through the open window then and Harry jumped as he hadn't noticed her flying up. She really was almost noiseless as she flew. She was carrying a letter, probably a reply from Mrs. Longbottom on when a meeting would work for her.

He untied the letter and looked down at it.

_Dear Harry, _

_Thank you so much for your letter and your interests. The 28th of December would work for me, probably at around four. If you would like to Floo over then then that would be wonderful. _

_-Alice Longbottom_

Harry quickly wrote off a reply agreeing and then offered it to Hedwig who looked a little annoyed but still held out her leg.

He was really looking forward to this. He had a perfectly fine dad already but he was still curious about his biological parents. He wondered sometimes why Gilderoy didn't seem threatened by this like he'd heard some adopted parents got but maybe the fact that his other parents were dead had something to do with that. He had heard about his biological parents from other sources but sometimes it was as if they thought his father was his only parent.

And that was perfectly understandable, of course, because they were his father's friends and only really knew his mother through him while they had known his father since arriving at Hogwarts but _still_. Was it any wonder he wanted to find another source? He didn't think he'd ever get tired of hearing about his biological parents.

He also really wanted to know what kind of person could be friends with Snape for so many years.

Review Please!


	25. Christmas Shopping

Chapter Twenty-Five: Christmas Shopping

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"Alright, Harry," Sirius said with a smile as he ushered Harry into Diagon Alley. "Where to first?"

"Do you need to stop at the bank?" Remus inquired.

Harry shook his head. "No, I have enough money."

Sirius looked disappointed. "I _love_ riding those carts."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "They make me sick so I try to go to Gringott's as little as I can. I know that they _say_ that they can't go any other speed but I think the goblins really do it to passive-aggressively mess with wizards."

"You're probably right," Remus agreed. "You might get somewhere by implying or outright stating that you don't believe that they _can_ change their speeds. Of course, that 'somewhere' might be a car that's twice as fast."

Harry turned to Sirius. "I actually did some of my shopping already. I figured I'd probably go with you two and I didn't want you to see what I was getting so I had to." That might not have been strictly true but he thought they'd like that excuse. "I do still need to get the Hogwarts professors something, though."

Sirius frowned. "Really? Why?"

His father had been quite clear on the goodwill that could be garnered by the simple act of gift-giving and it wasn't as if it was any hardship on him. "I love Hogwarts and the professors are an important part of the experience."

"Are you planning on getting Snape anything, Harry?" Remus asked delicately.

Harry kept his features carefully innocent. "Of course I am. He's my favorite teacher, as you know."

Sirius turned to Remus. "I blame you."

"Me?" Remus asked, placing a hand on his chest. "What did I do?"

"It's more what you didn't do," Sirius replied. "And that is not teaching at Hogwarts and providing Harry with a better candidate for favorite teacher."

"Who is to say that I would be his favorite?" Remus asked reasonably.

Sirius snorted and scratched behind his ear. "Look who you're up against. _Snape_. If you can't even beat him out then I'm afraid you'll have to turn in your Marauders badge."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Sirius has been trying to collect the set since we made them back in third year."

"Wait, those are a real thing?" Harry asked, incredulously.

In response, Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out three badges linked together. "One of these days, Moony…"

"Ignore him," Remus advised. "I've been doing that since approximately five minutes after we got the badges."

"So you never said," Sirius reminded Harry. "Where are we going? I'm thinking Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop."

"A trip to Diagon Alley wouldn't be complete without a stop there!" Harry exclaimed despite the fact that he had actually never been there. "But first I was thinking of Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions. If we get everything else out of the way first then we can spend the rest of the time in the joke shop."

"See?" Remus said smugly to Sirius. "I told you that responsibility doesn't have to go hand-in-hand with fun-killing."

"It's true, he has," Sirius replied. "I would have preferred a _demonstration_ but whatever works."

They set off for the potions store and looked around for awhile. Sirius ended up getting some hair product for Gilderoy and Harry wondered if he was trying to get a good gift or insulting him. He'd never admit it if it was an insult. Either way, since all of Gilderoy's product was imported and cost a lot more than this (Gilderoy's philosophy on money was that there was no point in having it if you weren't going to spend it) Harry wondered if he was going to use this to try to be polite and smooth things over with Sirius or not.

"I'd be careful with getting this for your professors," Remus cautioned. "People don't always respond well to being given beauty products."

"Oh, I know. I'll probably get most of them books. It's just that I have this friend, Blaise, who's very …conscientious and his latest thing is telling us all about how harmful potions fumes is to hair. I was thinking about getting Professor Snape something to help him out since he has to spend so much more time around potions than we do and he's not OCD enough to take three showers a day," Harry revealed.

"OCD?" Remus repeated, puzzled.

Harry shrugged. "He's not obsessive enough."

A slow grin was spreading across Sirius' face. "I _knew_ your father's genes couldn't be completely snuffed out by a little thing like whatever kind of parenting you get from Lockhart! Let's make it a joint gift, shall we?"

"Sirius-" Remus started to say but Sirius was already gone.

"Excuse me, can I purchase everything you have for greasy hair? No, not just one of each product. I mean _everything_…"

* * *

They salesperson had clearly been asked this question far too many times because she sighed deeply the minute he'd asked it.

"I know that 'Obscura Books' sounds a great deal like 'Obscure Books' and we do carry some rare items but we do not, in fact, specialize in rare books," she informed them.

Harry frowned. "But then why-"

"We were founded by the Obscura family," the woman interrupted, correctly anticipating his question. "They've all died out or married into another family by now but we've kept the name. Despite getting this question alarmingly frequently, the benefits of keeping the name outweigh the costs."

Remus had suggested coming here to look at books for the professors but Harry figured that everyone always got them books so he'd make more of an impression if he got them something else. Still, he had never been in here before so there might be some good finds and it was clear that Remus really wanted to go.

"Do you have a children's section?" Sirius asked.

The salesperson led him off and Harry turned to Remus. "He's not going to get me something from the _children's_ section, is he?"

"What?" Remus frowned momentarily before his eyes lit up. "Oh, no, it's not for you. We both got your gift and our gifts to each other out of the way last week. He's not getting a gift for anyone, actually, but he hates book stores and the children's section seems to amuse him. He does sometimes get some weird looks from concerned parents when he just goes in there without a child and sits down and starts reading but this place looks mostly empty."

Harry didn't really have any idea of what he was looking for in particular but he felt that looking through books was more of a solitary activity and so he turned down a different aisle from Remus.

He was reading with horror the back of one book which seemed to be a part of a series. There was this boy who fell in love with a werewolf and kept trying to get her to bite him so they could be together while she kept insisting that no one could ever love her – despite the fact that apparently this boy wasn't the only one who did – and trying to get him to leave her alone while also dating him. Talk about a mixed message.

Harry would normally not think that that sounded very healthy but the other option was apparently a ghost girl so maybe werewolf-girl was a better pick. Although he really didn't see why those were his only two options. It wasn't like he had any problems with werewolves or them dating – Remus was one, after all – but wanting to _become_ one? How stupid could you get? And while he couldn't know for sure, he imagined that it would be quite insulting for real werewolves to have people romanticize their condition to the point of intentionally trying to share it.

He knew that he should stop reading the covers because it was only freaking him out but somehow he just couldn't seem to look away.

"Hey, Harry," a familiar voice said. "What are you reading?"

Harry nearly dropped the book he was holding when he realized that he had just encountered Ron in a bookstore that he didn't need to be in for the purpose of buying school supplies. He quickly shoved the book back on the shelf. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Ron leaned forward to see the shelf he had placed the book on. "Oh, the Wolfsbane series! My Mum loves those. I don't see the appeal myself. Mum says it's because I'm a boy but I asked Ginny and she said that Mum tried to get her to read them but she couldn't make it past the first one."

"Wait…it's called the _Wolfsbane_ series?" Harry couldn't believe it.

Ron eyed him strangely. "Yeah, why?"

"How can they have it be called the Wolfsbane series and not have any of the werewolves use Wolfsbane?" Harry demanded.

Ron shrugged. "Well, it is really expensive to buy and making it is supposed to be really hard. You'd think that the werewolves would put the effort into learning if they really cared but that's not what the book's about."

"Then what is it about?" Harry asked. "Because I couldn't possibly enjoy a book that can't exist without a plot hole in the premise."

Ron laughed. "Spoiled by living with an author, I take it?"

Harry tilted his head. "You might be right…I've never even heard of these books before and if they're really so popular then I've got to wonder."

"Either that or you've been living under a rock," Ron replied. "The author's apparently some big dark creature rights activist so part of it is trying to make werewolves seem more human."

"Werewolves _are_ human," Harry said flatly.

Ron shrugged. "Most of the month, sure, I guess. It's that one night, the night of the full moon, that freaks people out and she's trying to make the case that they can be safe then if they take precautions and that people shouldn't be scared of them or treat them badly the rest of the time."

"That's good," Harry said reluctantly.

"Of course, she still wants to sell books and this is a romance series so the other part is just mushy and angsty drivel," Ron told him. "Just don't bring them up around Hermione."

"How come?" Harry asked.

Ron made a face. "She has this whole rant about how sexist the series is with the guy trying to 'tame' the girl or something. I don't know. I don't really read those books so I don't care."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry promised. "So what brings you here anyway?"

"I was trying to get a present for Percy," Ron explained. "I figured why not go to Obscura Books? That should have some _obscure_ books, right? He likes those. I thought the salesperson was going to hit me when I asked about that."

"They really should have a sign or something," Harry said agreeably.

"Of course, now that I'm here I might as well get Mum the latest Wolfsbane novel. It came out two weeks ago but I know she won't buy it for herself until after Christmas just in case someone gets it for her. And I found a few prank books the twins might like. They don't search out books on principle so I don't think they've come across them," Ron continued. "You?"

"Just looking around," Harry told him.

He heard Remus calling him then. "I guess it's time to go."

Ron grabbed the book for his mother and followed Harry towards the front of the store.

"Did you find anything that you want?" Remus asked him.

"No, it's okay. I think I'll find what I'm looking for at Twilfit and Tattings," Harry told them.

Sirius made a gagging sound.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"My Mum used to drag my brother and I there all the time for our clothes," Sirius said. "It's really high-end and she thought that Madam Malkin's was run by a blood traitor. It smells really bad, too."

"He means that there's a lot of perfume," Remus translated.

Sirius shuddered. "It's enough to give you a headache."

"Did you get anything?" Harry asked.

Remus nodded. "A few things, yes. And Sirius managed to find something, too."

Harry peered over at the books that Sirius held in his arms. "Where's Wally?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting up past his hairline. "That's a muggle book series!"

The saleswoman crossed her arms unapologetically. "What sells sells."

"I _will_ find him one of these days," Sirius vowed.

"You know that the answers are in the back, right?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"A true Marauder never cheats!" Sirius cried, outraged. "What do you think I am, a Slytherin?" A pause. "Sorry, Harry."

"Harry's not like other Slytherins," Ron spoke up. "I know that he wouldn't cheat but all of the others totally would."

"See, _that's_ what I'm talking about!" Sirius said delightedly.

Remus rolled his eyes tolerantly. "So who's your friend, Harry?"

"Isn't it obvious? He's a Weasley," Sirius announced.

Remus winced. "I thought that perhaps we could not make snap judgments like that and wait to see if he really is a Weasley."

"But he has red hair. Everyone knows that only Weasleys have red hair," Sirius said matter-of-factly.

Harry thought back to the first day of school and suddenly Draco's warning not to accuse Tracey Davis of being a Weasley made a lot more sense.

"Except for some members of the Davis family and the Bones family and the Prewett family. And let's not even forget about Harry's mother," Remus reminded Sirius.

"Don't worry," Ron told them. "I am a Weasley."

Remus just sighed as Sirius grinned triumphantly.

* * *

They ended up having lunch with Ron and he and Sirius seemed to get along great. They apparently had a great deal to say to each other on a great deal of subjects and barely let Harry and Remus get a word in edge-wise. They did stay away from the evil Slytherins topic but Harry did come back from the bathroom once to catch them in the middle of a conversation that they quickly ended. At least they were making an effort?

They got ice cream after that and Ron unfortunately had to leave once a frantic-looking Percy finally spotted him and burst through the door, complaining that Ron had said he was going to be at the book shop and was supposed to meet him there two hours ago. Ron didn't look particularly upset at worrying his brother but he did agree to go after that.

Remus, Sirius, and Harry finished their ice cream and then headed off to Twilfit and Tattings.

"I really don't understand," Remus confessed uncertainly. "You're going to buy your professors clothing? Is that quite appropriate?"

"I don't see why not," Harry replied casually as he moved throughout the shop.

"It does seem rather excessive," Remus fretted.

"You are going to be _such _a teacher's pet," Sirius complained. "Well…mostly. But Snape doesn't like you anyway."

"You are one of a very small number of people to believe that," Harry informed him.

"Really?" Sirius said, frowning. "How odd. That's another reason to think Snape is terrible, by the way. If he really cared about your mother then he wouldn't have let the fact that you're James' son make him hate you."

"Give me a little credit, please," Harry requested. "Some of the issues we have are entirely my own doing."

"You're right, of course. I'm sorry," Sirius apologized.

Harry finally stopped in front of one of the section. "Perfect."

Remus' eyes widened. "Harry, you're not seriously going to…" he trailed off.

Harry smirked. "I don't see why not. It's a perfectly wonderful idea for a present and I kind of doubt they get many of these. Books are nice and all but as teachers they get more than enough of those. It is December, though, and we do live in a drafty castle in Britain so one cannot have too many pairs of nice, woolen socks. I can even coordinate them by house."

"Well it is original," Remus said slowly. "No one can deny that. And Hogwarts can get rather chilly."

"And since Snape won't be getting any I'll bet you that, regardless of how much he doesn't want a present from Harry, he'll still pitch a fit because you didn't get him special Slytherin socks," Sirius crowed. "See if you can see if he gets himself any in the future, will you, Harry?"

"Of course," Harry said, having no intention of doing so. He didn't even want to know how Sirius expected him to find out what kind of socks Snape wore. He'd just confirm it a little down the line and just make Sirius' week.

Review Please!


	26. Christmas

Chapter Twenty-Six: Christmas

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry woke up to the sound of his curtain being drawn open and then his door slamming shut. He didn't want to but he still blearily forced his eyes open to see what was going on. Very little light was streaming through his windows, certainly not enough to wake him. What time was it? There was a watch on the beside table but he was too tired to check.

He closed his eyes again and put his head under the covers.

It seemed like it was only minutes later that his door flung open again and a bright light filled the room.

"Ah! The hell?" Harry demanded groggily.

"Sorry, Harry," Sirius said, not sounding very sorry at all. "But I woke you up fifteen minutes ago and you're making less progress than _Lockhart_ and he locked himself in the bathroom twenty minutes ago."

"What time is it?" Harry asked, burying his face in his pillow.

"I didn't catch that, sorry," Sirius informed him.

Harry lifted his head and repeated the question.

"Six-fifteen," Sirius answered promptly.

"I hate you," Harry growled.

Sirius just laughed. "God, you sound like your father. Your real one, that is."

Harry decided that Sirius was just trying to clarify and it was too early besides and so he let it go. "Why am I awake at this evil hour? The sun's really not up yet."

"The sun's clearly not a Christmas fan," Sirius said dismissively. "That's alright, though, because I'm enough of a fan for the both of us."

"Sirius, we may be magic but we do not have an anapomorphic sun," Harry told him.

Sirius frowned. "Sorry, what?"

"You know," Harry said, waving his hand vaguely. "A sun that has human traits."

"Ah, you mean 'anthropomorphic'," Sirius realized. "Well that's all the more reason that someone needs to celebrate Christmas on its behalf."

Harry sighed. "So it's Christmas. Why does that mean that I have to be awake now?" Harry asked again.

Against his will, he could feel that – though his tiredness remained – he was becoming more alert. He was quickly losing his chance to slip easily back into dreamland and Sirius had probably planned it that way. His godfather seemed like he had a lot of experience waking people up at ungodly hours.

"I've been up since four," Sirius announced. "But Remus wouldn't let me wake you up until now."

Harry was suddenly profoundly grateful to Remus for keeping Sirius at bay. "He's been up with you since then?"

"Remus and I always open presents at four in the morning," Sirius said, appearing to miss the point.

"Poor Remus," Harry said sympathetically.

"Poor Remus?" Sirius repeated incredulously. "Poor _me_. Let's go!"

Sirius bounded out of the room and Harry slowly climbed out of bed. Gilderoy wasn't downstairs yet so Harry lay down on the couch and ignored Sirius's attempts to get him to help with his and Remus's gingerbread house.

Finally, at seven on the dot, Gilderoy emerged at the top of the stairs and slowly began descending it, as impeccably put together as always despite the fact that they were just opening presents.

"Finally!" Sirius exclaimed, appearing like a blood hound in the living room the moment Gilderoy came into view.

Remus stayed behind for a few minutes, probably cleaning up, before joining them in front of the tree.

"You took so long that I was beginning to think that you had up and died on me," Sirius complained.

Gilderoy raised his eyebrows. "Did you? And yet somehow you didn't think to check on me? And on Christmas, too. How very humanitarian."

Sirius merely shook his head. "Nothing and I do mean _nothing_ is going to stand between me and opening presents this morning. I've already been up for three hours."

"And frankly I'm rather skeptical that we can even call this 'morning' yet," Gilderoy replied.

"Why on Earth did you have to get all dressed up?" Sirius demanded, irritated at what was clearly the cause for the delay in his getting to unwrap presents.

"I prefer to make myself presentable before I do anything else," Gilderoy answered simply. "Just as you evidently prefer to be awake when anyone sensible would be sleeping on Christmas."

"It's true," Harry confirmed. "I don't think I've ever seen him in just regular pyjamas."

"I guarantee it that half of Britain started on their presents _ages_ ago," Sirius said, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

"Would this be the half with small children?" Remus asked mildly. "Because I can easily see that."

Sirius sighed. "I'm cursed to be surrounded by grinches, it would seem."

"Well we're all awake now so why not open the presents?" Harry suggested. He moved over closer to the tree and glanced at one of the presents. He frowned and looked at another one and then another.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Gilderoy asked him.

"None of these presents have our names on them," Harry said, bewildered.

"What do you mean?" Gilderoy asked, surprised. He went over to the presents as well. "Frodo, Pippin, Legolas, and Elrond? We're a little far from Middle Earth, wouldn't you say?"

"Who are those people?" Harry asked, feeling even more confused now that Gilderoy was shown to have gotten whatever reference this was.

"They're characters from a series of Muggle books called The Lord of the Rings," Gilderoy explained. "But this does not explain our presents have these names on them."

"I cast the spell, I hope you don't mind," Remus said, a little apologetically in case they _did_ mind. "It's just that we always used to do this back before James and Lily died and since there are more than two of us this year I thought it might be nice to revive the tradition."

Now how was Harry supposed to mind when Remus invoked Harry's own dead parents? That was not being fair.

"It's fine," Harry assured him. "But, well, which one am I?"

"You have to guess," Sirius said, his eyes dancing. "That's the best part."

"Why do I have to guess?" Harry asked.

"All three of you are going to guess and whoever gets the most right goes first followed by the person with the second-most right, the person with the least right, and then me," Remus explained.

"But I don't know anything about these people. I don't even know if they're male or female," Harry protested.

"They're all male," Sirius assured him. "Except possibly for Legolas. I have my doubts about Legolas."

"That really doesn't help me figure out which one I am. I mean, was this done at random or because we reminded you of them or what?" Harry inquired.

"There is a reason you were assigned those characters, yes," Remus told him. "I'm not guessing, of course, because I already know the answers and that just wouldn't be fair."

"I'm at a huge disadvantage since my father and Sirius have at least heard of these books," Harry pointed out. "Can't I just not guess? I'll go last and everything. It's really not a big deal."

"No, Harry, you have to guess," Remus told him. "That's the whole point."

He passed out small pieces of paper and pens (Harry had been so relieved to see this small bit of modernity when he'd first arrived given how ancient everything else was) and the three of them got to work.

Frodo, Pippin, Legolas, and Elrond. What did those names mean to him? Nothing, that's what. Well, he supposed that he might as well have a system even if it would be completely wrong. His last name was 'Potter' and his father's was 'Lockhart.' P and L like Pippin and Legolas. That left Frodo and Elrond which didn't match up with Black and Lupin. Remus was five letters, though, like Frodo and Sirius was six like Elrond. Well, at least he had _an_ answer.

"Okay, I'm done," Sirius said excitedly.

"Give the paper to me then, Sirius," Remus said patiently.

Sirius did so and Harry also stood to deliver his paper.

Gilderoy took a few more minutes before he, too, handed his sheet in.

"Okay," Remus said slowly after reviewing the sheets. "For Frodo Harry has me, Gilderoy has himself, and Sirius has Harry."

"That's stupid," Sirius said, snorting. He quickly glanced at Harry. "Not your guess because I know that you don't know anything about The Lord of the Rings. Frodo is the chosen one and the savior. Sort of like Harry."

"Harry is eleven," Gilderoy argued. "Frodo is also the hero of the story."

"And that's you?" Sirius asked, laughing.

"There is a very popular series of books that depict me as the hero and I certainly try to live my life like a hero would," Gilderoy said modestly.

"You say that like the book series just popped up somehow and not like you've spent years writing it!" Sirius exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Well if Frodo had any talent at writing and wasn't plagued by a nasty case of depression then I'm sure he would have recorded his story as well," Gilderoy sniffed.

"So what was the answer?" Harry asked loudly.

Remus looked startled. "What? Oh, Frodo was you, Harry."

"See?" Sirius said smugly.

Gilderoy, in a rare display of maturity (possibly brought on by the fact that Sirius had been right), ignored him. "Next?"

"For Pippen, Harry has himself, Gilderoy has Harry, and Sirius has Gilderoy," Remus announced. "Unfortunately, none of you were right. Pippen was actually Sirius."

Sirius pulled a face. "Pippen is the lamest character on this list!"

"And you put me for him," Gilderoy noted.

Sirius shrugged. "Well, I had to pick someone and out of the four of us, well…"

"Harry's only eleven!" Gilderoy protested.

"_And_ my godson," Sirius replied.

"In case the pattern isn't becoming clear, Frodo was the savior and Pippen the prankster," Remus revealed. "Next up we have Legolas. Harry put Gilderoy, Gilderoy put Sirius, and Sirius put himself. The correct answer was Gilderoy because Legolas was a fierce warrior."

"And fashion-obsessed," Sirius added. He paused. "That's actually not related to my earlier theory that Legolas is female, by the way. It is an interesting coincidence, though."

"I'll just bet," Gilderoy muttered. "I don't remember Legolas being fashion-obsessed in the books and I'm not, either. I just have a healthy appreciation for looking nice."

"As, I'm sure, did Legolas," Sirius said mockingly. "Legolas is an elf; it didn't _need_ to be outright stated that he was obsessed with fashion."

Gilderoy rolled his eyes. "So that leaves Harry putting Sirius for Elrond and me and Sirius putting Remus?"

Remus nodded. "I am the studious one. That means that Sirius has two points and Harry and Gilderoy have one point each."

"You can go first, Harry," Gilderoy offered. "You're the child here; Christmas is really for you."

"No, _I'm_ going first," Sirius insisted.

Gilderoy sighed. "I meant that Harry could go before me meaning he would be going second," he clarified.

"Oh. That's okay then," Sirius decided. He pulled a present towards him and the unwrapping began.

Harry kind of hated gift-shopping. He never knew what to get people and he always worried that they would already have what he was getting them. Still, he'd had weeks to find everything. He just hoped that he had remembered to get something for everyone he needed to and that he wouldn't have a present from somebody he had not bought anything for. He was also hoping, though this was a lesser concern, that he didn't not receive anything from someone he had bought a gift for.

He had gotten candy from Ron, a mirror from Blaise, and a large book about muggle conspiracy theories from Theodore. Daphne got him a five-subject muggle notebook (with a note saying she got Draco the same thing and suggested asking him about it once the term started up again). Draco got him a large box of extremely expensive chocolate. Remus got him a few reasonably interesting looking books. Gilderoy got him tickets to see a show he'd been looking forward to in Paris which was a nice thing that they could do together and get out of the house before Gilderoy and Sirius managed to kill each other. And Sirius…

"A Nimbus 2000?" Harry gasped, unable to believe it. He had wanted one ever since it had come out earlier that year but despite how wealthy his father was he hadn't been able to justify it to himself to ask for the broom since he wouldn't even be able to take it to school until he was a second year. He wouldn't get much use out of this broom, either, until summer hit but that hardly mattered. He had a Nimbus 2000! "I…thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, Harry," Sirius said warmly, pleased at the awed reception his gift had gotten. He then immediately turned to Gilderoy. "It looks like we have a clear winner."

Gilderoy rolled his eyes. "There are no winners or losers when it comes to gift-giving."

"That sounds like the kind of thing that someone who did not win might say," Sirius said thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "I wonder why that might be…"

"If you really need the sort of validation that 'winning' this gets you then by all means, take it," Gilderoy invited.

"You're surprisingly gracious in your defeat," Sirius said, sounding a little disappointed that Gilderoy wasn't making a big fuss. Gilderoy rarely did given the clear image problems that could cause.

Harry turned back to his gifts. Hermione had gotten him a copy of Hogwarts: A History. How…thoughtful. He wondered if she had gotten anyone else that or if it was just lucky him. Reading about the history of his school just didn't sound all that interesting. Sure, Hogwarts had some very interesting history (it was haunted kind of a lot) but history authors often had this remarkable talent for taking even the most interesting of subject matters and turning them into something painfully boring.

He wondered whether he should read it or not. If he didn't then that would be rude but if he did then he'd have to suffer through the book. If he didn't then Hermione would keep pestering him to read it unless he lied and said that he did in which case when Hermione inevitably wanted to talk about it she'd quickly realize that he was lying. The pros of reading it probably outweighed the cons. He couldn't exactly talk to Gilderoy about it since he loved that kind of thing.

Neville had gotten him a rare plant that looked like way too much effort to bother with (well…it didn't contain care instructions and looking it up was sure to be a pain). And then there was…

"Success!" Harry cheered happily.

Everyone looked much more closely at his present.

"What?" Sirius asked eagerly if a bit jealously. He clearly wanted to be the one to have given the best gift to Harry overall even though the main thing for him seemed to be just beating Gilderoy out.

"I finally have my very own Weasley jumper," Harry said brightly, holding up the green hand-knitted jumper proudly.

"I…don't get it," Sirius admitted.

"But it's very nice," Remus quickly added.

"I can explain," Gilderoy told them. "For the last several years, I have been getting the most fetching blue jumper from Molly Weasley. I don't believe we've met other than in passing but she's a huge fan of my work. Harry has always wanted a Weasley jumper of his very own since he sees me getting them every year and now, because he's friends with Ron and she now knows how to find Harry, he has one."

"Green is Slytherin colors," Harry said, pleased.

Sirius started choking.

Remus laughed lightly as his friend's dramatics. "I'm reasonably certain that that is not what she intended but either way it matches your eyes and I'm sure that it will look wonderful on you."

Sirius stopped pretending his life was in danger due to the presence of a Slytherin color and was now staring at the jumper in Harry's lap speculatively. "So how famous would you say that the 'Weasley jumpers' are among your peer group?"

"At Hogwarts?" Harry asked, considering. "Pretty famous, I guess."

"So if you wore it then everyone would know where you got it," Sirius continued.

Harry frowned, trying to follow him. "_When_ I wear it, yes…"

Sirius grinned. "Imagine how everyone back in Slytherin will react! They'll all have a heart attack! And who knows, if you play your cards right, you might just get a room to yourself."

Review Please!


	27. Teatime with Alice

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Teatime with Alice

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry had been waiting by the Floo since eleven o'clock if he was being honest even though he wasn't supposed to go over to Longbottom Manor and speak to Alice Longbottom until four. He wasn't feeling particularly honest, though, and didn't want to admit how excited and nervous he was about the entire thing but fortunately Remus understood and had kept him busy for the last few hours playing Wizarding Chess with a short break for lunch.

Finally, at 3:55, Remus casually glanced up at the clock. "Harry, weren't you planning on heading over to speak with Alice Longbottom soon? Maybe you should get going."

Harry, who had had his eye on the clock almost nonstop for the last twenty minutes, intentionally started. "Oh, would you look at that? You're right, Remus. Thanks for reminding me."

He stood up and headed to the Floor.

"Have fun," Remus told him as he began to clean up the last of their games. Remus had been winning anyway so Harry didn't mind that it still lay unfinished.

Harry nodded absently and threw a handful of Floo powder in. "Longbottom Manor," he said as clearly as he could which was really not all that clear when it came right down to it. He couldn't wait until he turned seventeen if for no other reason than he would be able to learn to Apparate. That wasn't a pleasant sensation either and there was a bigger chance of leaving parts of himself behind but he'd get the hang of it and would have much better odds of actually ending up where he wanted to end up.

Harry came out in what appeared to be a parlor. When he was younger, he always ended up sprawled on the floor when he came out of the Floo but Gilderoy had thought that that made him look undignified and so they'd spent many long hours practicing it until Harry could at least manage to keep his balance.

Alice Longbottom was sitting alone in the room reading a book and looked up at his arrival. "Harry!" she exclaimed as she put a bookmark in to remember her spot and then set the book aside. "You're early."

Harry smiled. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn't late. You're doing me a favor and it would be rude to be late."

"Don't be silly," Alice said, gesturing for him to sit down in the chair on the other side of the sofa she was occupying. "Your mother was a dear friend and I'm honored that you would come to me to learn more about her. I don't know as much about your father, sadly, but I imagine you've heard a great deal from Remus and Sirius."

Harry smiled wryly. "Oh yes."

"James was always one of Sirius' favorite topics," Alice said knowingly. "He used to say it was because James was the first person he met with the good taste to really appreciate him."

A house elf popped into the room then carrying a tray of tea and some delicious-looking scones.

"Put it down on the table, Silky," Alice instructed.

Silky did so and then gave a deep bow and popped back out.

"Would you care for some tea?" Alice asked him.

Harry nodded. "Yes, thank you."

Alice poured him a cup and handed it to him. "Was there anything specific you wanted to know about your mother?"

"I was curious how she went from deeply despising my father and being the best friend of someone that he bullied to dating him in their seventh year," Harry replied.

Alice laughed. "It still makes me smile sometimes to think of what a change those Hogwarts years wrought. You have to understand that, as the only child of a wealthy and powerful Pureblood couple who had spent many years wondering if they would ever have children, James was rather arrogant when he first arrived at Hogwarts. I'm afraid that trait never did fade away completely although he got more bearable as he grew older. Had he lived…"

That was what it always got back to for these friends and acquaintances of his parents. Had they lived. He couldn't even imagine. He supposed that, since they were his parents, he would have liked for them to have lived and raised him but he surely would have turned out very differently and he liked the way he was _now_. And he didn't really like the idea of no Gilderoy in his life but, without his fame, he wouldn't have held any interest for Gilderoy. Harry wondered if this knowledge should have upset him but it didn't because, no matter why Gilderoy had initially taken an interest in him, he loved him _now_ and that was really all that mattered.

Alice's smile wavered for a second. "Lily was the exact wrong person to try that on. She was too stubborn to admit it but she was a little terrified to be going off to Hogwarts. Severus told her all about Hogwarts, of course, but she confessed that despite that and the magic that she could do she had never quite believed him until she was standing on Platform 9 and 3/4. So when she was trying to make sense of everything and James kept following her around acting like he knew everything and was completely in control…It did not go very well."

"And the fact that he didn't like Professor Snape couldn't have helped matters," Harry added.

"Lily and I never could agree on just why James and Severus hated each other so much at first," Alice mused. "Lily thought it was because Severus was interested in the Dark Arts and James had a pathological _thing_ about them. That was certainly why Sirius didn't like him but his family was steeped in so much dark magic that Sirius couldn't even make it through six summers with those people and moved in with James. And she thought that Severus didn't like James for the same reason she didn't: his arrogance. It was even worse for him, of course, since he had a magical heritage and yet his upbringing was about as far away from James' as you could get."

Harry nodded. That did make sense. "And what did you think?"

"I thought that it was about Lily," Alice admitted. "They were both in love with her, I think, for a very long time. She didn't want James' affections and I don't think she ever noticed Severus' but there you go. James was jealous of Severus because Lily actually liked him and Severus was jealous of James because he was always the type more likely to succeed in wooing a girl. The truth was probably somewhere in the middle."

"And Professor Snape and my mother stopped being friends after he called her the m-word during their OWLS?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Alice blinked at him. "You're well-informed. Yes, that was…what is that Muggle expression? I've always liked it and it seems to describe this situation perfectly. Ah, yes. It was the straw that broke the camel's back."

"I don't understand," Harry admitted. It was a terrible thing to admit to but since it _was_ a Muggle expression then that was probably okay.

"It means that a camel can carry a great deal of weight and you wouldn't think that adding just one more piece of straw would cause a problem and any little problem that comes up is not going to lead to a relationship ending or a mental breakdown," Alice told him. "But if those straw-problems keep piling up then one day it will be too much and the camel's back will break and it will all be too much for someone."

"And Professor Snape calling my mother the m-word was this straw?" Harry asked.

Alice nodded. "Yes, it was. It all started when he was sorted into Slytherin. I know that you were sorted into Slytherin and I want you to know that my mother-in-law was as well so I don't have any problem with that house. Maybe you can understand some of it but most of it you won't be able to because the world is different now than it was then."

Harry understood immediately. "Because of You-Know-Who?"

Alice nodded. "I don't know as much about it as I would have if I were in Slytherin but from what I understand and what became of most of the graduating classes of Slytherins, it was a very difficult place to be if you did not want to be a Death Eater. I never believed that Severus _wanted_ to be a Death Eater but he did not want to be a target of the true believers either so he…fell in with them."

Harry frowned. "What exactly does that mean?"

Alice tilted her head back. "Your mother tried to be understanding but I knew that it bothered her. It bothered her for _years_. The people he was spending his time with when he wasn't around your mother were just not very nice people and most of them ended up dead or in Azkaban. The ones that didn't probably should have but they claimed Imperious. Severus never actually _did_ anything but being around them all the time irritated him. At last, your mother decided that it wasn't enough for her to be the sole exception to someone's Pureblood-fanatic views and so she walked away after he called her the m-word in front of everybody."

"That's so sad," Harry said quietly.

Alice nodded. "It really is and that's just one of the reasons that I'm so grateful that by the time you and Neville got to school, things changed so much and you can be friends without having to worry about any of that. I don't think that Severus, who was a half-blood himself, was ever really a Pureblood fanatic but I understand why Lily did. She felt that if he could say that about _her_, his best friend, then it wasn't a good sign for what he thought of anyone else like her."

"But he was being humiliated in front of the whole school!" Harry protested. "He probably didn't mean it."

"I agree," Alice told him. "Your mother couldn't believe that he would say it if he didn't mean it, though, even just a little. And ultimately it didn't matter. It was just getting too hard for her to have to keep making excuses for him and to watch him slip further into darkness. Maybe she could have 'saved' him, I don't know, but she was sixteen and it wasn't her job to force him to make good choices. He might have just pulled her down with him and a clean break was healthier for her than continuing to cling to what was once their friendship. If it was easier to think that he had made his choice…well, that was her prerogative."

Prerogative? Did that mean choice?

Harry nodded. "I understand. I don't know that I could make myself responsible for someone not being a Death Eater either."

"Things with James were almost independent of that," Alice told him. "I say 'almost' because the fact that she was no longer friends with someone who hated James and James had the sense to stop letting Lily see whenever he and Severus fought certainly helped smooth the way, I think. But James just grew up and was a strong supporter of Dumbledore and the fight against You-Know-Who. In many ways he was the anti-Severus and Lily really needed that. James did have his good qualities and among those were his deep almost irrational loyalty and he could be very charming. Lily just finally got a chance to see those qualities in him during sixth and seventh year."

That was certainly more informative than Sirius' claim that Lily just finally, after seven years of stalking, said yes so that James would maybe leave her alone and he hadn't.

"What was she like?" Harry asked her. "Just in general?"

"It's always so hard to figure out how to sum up a person, sum up a friendship that lasted for ten years, with just a few words," Alice said softly. "Your mother was the best friend that I ever had. We did _everything _together. We even got pregnant at around the same time and went into St. Mungo's together though I delivered a few hours before she did. She was probably more stubborn than was good for her and she didn't let anyone walk all over her or make her feel like she didn't belong. She never did know how to let go of a grudge, though, so even if Severus had turned his life around I don't think she ever would have made up with him."

It was, strangely, refreshing to hear about some negative traits as well. Because his parents were dead and he had never known them, most people considered it their duty to fill his head with only good things about them so that Harry would like them. While he appreciated this, the idealized versions never quite seemed real. Of course, he still wanted to hear about all the good things, too.

"Your mother was very funny although sometimes people had trouble telling if she was being sarcastic or not. I remember this one time someone asked her to do some sort of volunteer work – I don't remember what it was – and she was busy so she told them that she didn't believe in helping people and they actually believed that," Alice said fondly.

Harry looked at her incredulously. "Wouldn't they have been able to tell by just the fact that she outright said she did not believe in helping people?" True he had no real way of knowing if he would have known it was sarcasm if Alice had not straight-up told him that it was but he would like to think that he was a little more observant than that. And he could only imagine the kinds of problems it could cause if his mother went around regularly saying things like that and was believed.

Alice shrugged. "You would think. I got it. I usually got it but even I didn't have the perfect track record. It might have helped if she had had a different sarcasm voice but she said everything in her normal tone. James used to brag that he could always tell and either he could or Lily humored him."

Harry was smiling."That sounds nice."

"It was," Alice agreed. "Let's see…your mother was very smart but she had no idea how to go about studying. In all our years at Hogwarts, she either had to rely on someone else to guide a study session or she would have to decide if it was worth it to read everything that was going to be on the test or simply do nothing."

Harry's eyes widened. "That sounds really inefficient."

"It was," Alice agreed. "But she always got top marks anyway. At a certain point, all of her friends made an agreement that they would never leave Lily to study alone because it was just ridiculous. What else…Oh! Your name was actually all her idea."

"It was?" Harry asked, surprised. "But my middle name is 'James.'"

Alice grinned. "That's what's so interesting about it. Your father's name was James Henry – though he insisted on being called James Harry for some reason – and you were named Harry James but it's a complete coincidence. Or maybe, as your father claimed, yet more proof that they belonged together."

Harry was fascinated. "Where did my name come from then?"

"Your mother and aunt used to talk about what names they wanted for their children," Alice replied. "It's probably for the best that you were born a boy because her girl name was 'Aurelia Devonney.' I don't know where she came up with either of those names but she was quite set on them."

Harry laughed. "You're making that up."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "Am I? Well."

"I can just imagine how hard it would be to convince everyone that I wasn't actually named after my father," Harry mused. "If they even cared to convince anybody."

"Your parents," Alice informed him, "absolutely denied that you were named after your father but they gave every person who asked them a different story so nobody knew the truth."

"But you think that you do," Harry pointed out.

"Yes," Alice agreed, "but Lily told me about her name plan way back in second year. If Lily was really planning on tricking people that far in advance then I believe that she deserves to have pulled one over on me."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, probably. My mother sounds pretty great and even my father does…once he grew up some."

"It's never a good idea to judge people by what they were like as teenagers," Alice advised. "But yes, they were wonderful people and I'm glad that you're finally getting a chance to discover that."

Review Please!


	28. Drunken Decisions

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Drunken Decisions

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

All too soon, the holidays were at an end and Harry was going to be going back to Hogwarts. It was still early enough that he was having some difficulty remembering that this was 1992 now and not 1991 but he'd remember in time.

Harry was not exactly looking forward to going back to school. It's not like he didn't like school (because he did) or miss his friends (though it had only been a few weeks) but he didn't want to go back to all of the homework and classes, either. He was sure that Hermione was but then again there had always been something not quite right about that girl.

Gilderoy hadn't bothered to come see him off as they would see each other either that night or the next day but Sirius and Remus did come to bid him goodbye. He did try to be a little sensitive since they wouldn't see him for another five or so months but to be honest he just wanted to hurry up with that and go see his friends again.

They let him go without too much fuss, probably remembering how they felt during their own Hogwarts years. It might have seemed forever ago to him but it wasn't really all that long in the grand scheme of things.

The first person he saw was Neville and so he sat in a compartment with him.

"I'm mad at you," Neville declared.

Harry frowned. "You are? Huh."

Neville's eyebrows shot up. "Aren't you even going to ask me why?"

"I could," Harry agreed, "but then I would be revealing a gap in my knowledge and giving you the upper hand in this conversation."

Neville rolled his eyes tolerantly "Can you stop being a Slytherin for five minutes?"

"You sound like my godfather," Harry told him.

Neville's mouth dropped open in faux-horror. "Oh _no_! Anything but _that_!"

Harry laughed. "If you would like to talk about why you're mad at me, feel free."

Neville nodded. "I will, thank you. You and my mum talked a few days ago."

Harry frowned again. "Yes, we did. Are you jealous or something?"

Neville shook his head. "No, of course not. That would be silly."

"Then what is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"Her telling you all about your parents made her get caught up in the past and she and my dad spent the rest of break _reminiscing_," Neville complained.

"Am I supposed to apologize that me getting to hear something about my long-dead parents – and a reasonably unbiased account, for once – meant that you had to listen to stories about your own parents who have raised you since you were born?" Harry asked incredulously.

"…I will admit that, when you put it like that, it does sound ridiculous," Neville said, wincing. "But yes, yes I would. Would you mind?"

Harry grinned. "Not at all. I'm so sorry that my need to find out any scrap of information about my parents inconvenienced you in anyway."

"Apology accepted," Neville said graciously.

"Seriously, how bad could it have been?" Harry asked curiously.

Neville groaned and closed his eyes. "Oh, if only you knew…"

"Well," Harry replied, "I am asking so I will know if only you tell me."

Neville's eyes snapped open. "Good point."

"I do make those sometimes," Harry said modestly.

"But rarely enough that we still have to take note of it when it happens," Neville insisted.

"I'm getting better!" Harry insisted.

"That might be the saddest thing of all…" Neville said, shaking his head at him.

Harry just rolled his eyes. "About your terrible rest of break after I spoke to your mother?"

"Ah, right. Well, it all started when my mother found her old Hogwarts uniform that either still fit her or she magicked to make still fit her," Neville said. "And so I had to hear the story of how my parents first met, which was when they happened to sit next to each other at the welcoming feast, as it happened. And then there was the story of how they started dating."

"What happened there?" Harry inquired, mostly just to be polite.

"Your dad – your biological dad – was apparently annoyed that he couldn't get your mum to go out with him so he looked over at my parents doing homework together one day and snapped. He said that everyone knew that they wanted to be snogging each other and so could they please put everyone out of their misery," Neville revealed.

Harry laughed. "How romantic."

Neville made a face. "Oddly, they seemed to think so. I guess I shouldn't complain _too_ much. I mean, without their mushy love story – and your dad being annoyed at love – I wouldn't even exist, after all."

"Give yourself some credit," Harry urged. "You can both be grateful _and_ annoyed at the same time."

"You're right," Neville realized, beaming. "I just need to have a little more faith in myself, that's all."

* * *

Gilderoy was normally very careful about how much he drank in front of other people. After all, everyone knew that drinking lowered your inhibitions and made you think it was a good idea to say things that, in reality, you should never ever say. And even if Gilderoy hadn't had an important secret he was keeping at all costs, he wasn't fond of the fact that it made you act like an idiot, either.

Still, he was so pleased to be back at Hogwarts and – more to the point – away from Sirius Black (would that man never stop with the hostility?) that he decided to have a few in the staff lounge. He figured that it would be fine as long as he made sure to remember to speak as little as possible and not to say anything about himself.

Unfortunately, since he did not get drunk often he did not know very much about himself while drunk and did not know whether or not he would find it worthwhile to stick to his plan or even remember the plan at all. Some people were very talkative when they were drunk and he hoped that he was not one of them. He also wished that he could cast a silencing spell on himself or something but he knew better than to try it. He might do some damage, need help fixing it, and have to explain what exactly happened. Super-famous dark creature hunters did not miscast silencing spells, after all.

The fact of the matter was that he didn't even like the taste of alcohol. It was just one of the foulest things he had ever tasted. And it all reminded him of communion wine. Yes, all of it. He'd never been fond of it when he was younger and he had never gotten used to it. Still, he wasn't about to make himself the odd one out by refusing to drink socially and so – after hours of practicing in front of a mirror – he had gotten the hang of drinking at a normal rate without grimacing.

Fortunately, wizarding alcohol (while still disgusting) was preferable to muggle alcohol, probably because they had access to magic. His parents used to tell him that if he didn't like alcohol then he could try to get a flavored drink that disguised the taste but if the taste was going to be hidden then what was the _point_ of drinking alcohol in the first place? The effect it had on people? That effect was dangerous, especially for one such as him.

But that night he chose not to worry about it. As usual, he was having the snobbiest drink available because it would simply not do to appear low-brow and maybe sometimes he overcompensated a little.

All the staff was in there, enjoying the peace that the end of the holidays brought and trying to prepare themselves for classes tomorrow.

Well, that was what most of them were doing.

Snape just appeared to be in the mood for complaining.

"Can you not see what an _insult_ this is, Headmaster?" he demanded, pacing back and forth in front of the fire.

"I must confess that I do not, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, not looking up from his Sudoku puzzle. "Young Harry seems to have given you a very thoughtful gift."

"He got me more hair products than even _he_ could possibly use," Snape said, throwing a disgusted hand in Gilderoy's direction.

Gilderoy felt that he should probably say something to defend himself or Harry but he was extremely drunk at this point and he remembered his plan to not say anything. It was hard, though, when Snape was being so boring and stupid.

"And how did you manage to take a remarkably generous – and expensive – gift and interpret it as an insult?" Dumbledore asked, mildly curious. He frowned and erased a few numbers.

"Isn't it obvious what he is doing?" Snape demanded.

"I wouldn't say so, no," Dumbledore replied mildly.

"He's just like his father, poking fun at me about my hair," Snape ground out lividly.

"I don't believe that," Dumbledore told him.

"You never believed it of his father, either," Snape bit out.

"Harry is not his father, Severus, we've been over this," Dumbledore said patiently. "Harry seems to truly like you. You are his favorite teacher, after all, for all that you somehow think that that is proof that he doesn't like you."

"If he _likes_ me," Snape said disdainfully, "then why this insult?"

"It's not an insult, Severus, it's a present," Dumbledore insisted. "And one of Harry's friends, young Mister Zabini, is quite concerned with the effect that potions fumes have on the hair, as you may have noticed. Gilderoy has a bit of an interest in the subject himself. This seems like a perfectly reasonable gift."

"He didn't get anyone else something so…specific," Snape pointed out.

"Alas, none of us spend enough time around potions fumes to necessitate such a generous gift," Dumbledore said sadly. "We did all get some nice, thick woolly socks, though. I am very pleased to get a little variety this year. The more years pass that I get nothing but books the more likely it becomes that I will get one that I already possess and that does get awkward."

Severus said nothing.

"And be honest, Severus: how would you have reacted if Harry failed to get you a present?" Dumbledore asked reasonably.

"He could have gotten me socks," Snape said flatly.

At that point, Gilderoy totally lost interest in their discussion and a quick glance around the room showed that no one else was paying it that much mind, either.

There was, for some reason, a bowling ball resting on the floor near Flitwick's feet. Maybe he was a bowler. Maybe somebody else had put it there. Maybe it was transfigured. Maybe it really didn't matter.

He wasn't supposed to talk, sure, but that didn't mean that he couldn't try a little silent magic. Usually, Gilderoy was pretty terrible with silent magic and had enough of a problem with spoken magic and he rarely practiced in front of an audience. Now, though…now if he just barely poked his wand out of his sleeve and didn't say anything to draw attention to himself or make it clear that he was the one trying to cast the spell then things would surely be fine.

It took Gilderoy a minute to even remember what the spell was to levitate things. He could have picked a different target but for some reason the bowling ball had his attention and was not about to let go of it so easily.

It also took him awhile (not that he knew just how long as he pointedly refused to look at a clock) to actually get it to move. And he had been staring so intently at the bowling ball that he actually missed when it began to move and only realized that he had moved it when he realized it was no longer in his line of sight.

Gilderoy's head swung around wildly looking for the ball when he finally spotted it floating about a foot and a half from the ground…right over Snape's feet. That wasn't good. It seemed that at some point he had stopped pacing and was now standing directly in front of Dumbledore. He tried to get it to move away from its precarious position but the moment he tried the bowling ball hurtled to the Earth.

"Once again, Headmaster, you fail to-" Snape was saying before the bowling ball hit. Snape tensed up and let out a muffled cry.

Gilderoy couldn't help but be impressed by the man's pain tolerance as he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. They couldn't possibly blame a sleeping person for this debacle, after all.

There was a lot of scrambling as the staff likely stood and congregated around Snape.

"I think his feet are broken," Madam Pomfrey announced. "Both of them."

"How can Gilderoy sleep through this?" Sprout wondered idly.

Well, his cover was fooling at least one person, then. He very carefully didn't react.

"That is unfortunate," Dumbledore said and Gilderoy imagined that he was frowning. "I'm so sorry, Severus. Do you have any idea what happened?"

"A bowling ball fell on my feet, sir," Severus said, his voice remarkably free of any kind of emotion or pain. Okay, now it was getting kind of weird.

"Yes, I gathered that. And I had noticed it earlier. But how did it get from the floor to hovering above your feet?" Dumbledore wondered. "Filius, is there any chance that there was some sort of enchantment on your ball?"

"It's possible, Albus," Filius said doubtfully. "I had it checked for the standard hexes when I bought it and I've never had a problem with it but it could be the case."

"Poppy, would you mind taking care of Severus in the Hospital Wing?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, absolutely not," Madam Pomfrey said, her voice firm.

"Why not?" Dumbledore asked, bewildered. "Severus is a Hogwarts professor injured at Hogwarts. What would be the problem with him being treated here at Hogwarts?"

"Professor Snape," Madam Pomfrey sniffed, "is a terrible patient. And if it were a matter of him dying if I did not treat him then I would, of course treat him. Mercifully for us all, his life is in no danger and he can go to St. Mungo's."

Snape scoffed at her but said nothing.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked, deeply disappointed.

"Yes, Headmaster. This is the last thing I need to start off the new term with," Madam Pomfrey insisted.

"Very well," Dumbledore agreed. "Severus, shall we?"

"I hardly need an escort, Headmaster," Snape said coolly.

"Perhaps not but since I was right in front of you when it happened and failed to notice your, er, _assailant_ then I feel responsible and I would be much more comfortable if I were permitted to accompany you," Dumbledore told him.

Snape sighed heavily but made no further protest.

There was a rustling and shortly afterwards, Dumbledore cried out for St. Mungo's. A moment later, Snape did the same.

"That was rather childish," McGonagall said reprovingly. "You really couldn't treat him?"

"I pity the poor fools who have to," Madam Pomfrey said grimly. This was rather serious. And since he didn't want a hang-over in the morning (even for just as long as it took to take a potion to rid himself of said hang-over), he should probably go to her for a cure to his drunken condition once he felt enough time had passed to make it plausible that he had really been asleep.

"It c-can't be _that_ b-bad, s-surely?" Quirrell asked uncertainly.

Madam Pomfrey laughed darkly. "Oh, you have _no_ idea. Maybe it's Slytherin pride and maybe it's something else but the man will _never_ admit to being in pain or needing to be treated at all. He keeps trying to sneak out of the Hospital Room and he keeps making suggestions about how to improve all of the potions!"

"That doesn't sound so bad," McGonagall remarked.

"It wouldn't be if all of his suggestions weren't the sorts of things that need a potion's master to make," Madam Pomfrey grumbled. "It makes me feel inadequate and I know that he does it on purpose to try to convince me to let him leave earlier."

"There's that, certainly," Flitwick said slyly, "or perhaps he just wants to be included. You really should be more considerate of Severus' delicate feelings."

Review Please!


	29. Golden Opportunity

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Golden Opportunity

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"I just think that you might be jumping to conclusions, Blaise," Harry was saying as the two sat by the fire. "Did your stepfather look like he was sick or something?"

"Well, no," Blaise admitted. "Not as far as I could tell, anyway."

"Then why do you think he's going to be dead by the time summer comes around?" Harry asked reasonably.

Blaise closed his eyes. "My mother waited until Matthew-"

"Peter," Harry corrected.

"_Whoever_ left the room and then she asked me if that suit that I had worn for Christopher's-" here Blaise paused to give Harry a chance to correct him again but he didn't know the names of Blaise's various stepfathers as well as Tracy did "-funeral would still fit me and if not then would I mind terribly giving her my measurements?"

"Well that's…" Harry trailed off, trying to think of a positive way to spin this. "She just wants you to be prepared, I guess."

"Yes," Blaise agreed. "Prepared for the fact that once again my stepfather is going to die a mysterious death and leave her with a lot of money."

Harry didn't know what to say and so he remained quiet.

"I really think that my mother has a problem," Blaise remarked idly.

"Or several," Harry muttered.

"And they've all conveniently died," Blaise concluded. "I don't know why people still marry her. She can't be _that_ attractive. I mean, she's not even part-Veela!"

"But then, would you really be in a good position to judge if she were?" Harry asked reasonably.

Blaise nodded his head at that, acknowledging the point. "I already told her that my friends are all off-limits."

Harry stared at him. "Blaise, your friends are all a bit young to worry about that."

Blaise snorted. "For _now_. In another five, six years though…Imagine if my mother could land the boy who lived…"

Harry shuddered. "No offense but…no thanks."

"None taken," Blaise assured him breezily. "So you see, I really did you a favor."

"Thanks…I think…" Harry trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

"That is the usual reaction," Blaise said absently. "Of course, Mother won't be happy but the biggest impact this has had on me is that I'm never, ever going to get married and probably won't have any children, either."

"I can imagine how no grandchildren might upset her," Harry acknowledged.

"What about you, Harry?" Blaise asked. "Does your father won't grandchildren?"

Harry thought back to the talk that Gilderoy had given him right after he had been told where babies came from.

"_Now Harry, I know you might have urges and think that you know what you're doing but every child you have is a huge financial burden so make absolutely sure that you want them and don't just have them by accident. And remember that the wizarding public will judge you for everything you do and quite a bit that you won't do so __**please**__ wait until you're married to reproduce and definitely wait until you're twenty. Remember, anything you do reflects on me as well." _

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "Maybe in a few years."

There was a knock at their common room door and everyone in the common room froze.

"What's going on?" the Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint, asked.

His friend rolled his eyes. "What does it look like? Someone's knocking on the door to the common room."

Flint scowled at him. "I knew _that_! I just don't know why anyone would do that. I mean, no other houses know where we're located and if they did they _still_ wouldn't be here."

"Maybe someone forgot their password," a girl Harry didn't know suggested.

"I say we leave them out there in that case," Blaise suggested. "It will be good for them and maybe they'll even learn something and this won't happen again."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, this is really for their own good."

The pounding continued.

Annoyed, an older boy got up and stalked to the door. "_I'll _get it."

"Thank you mysterious upper-classman," Harry said with a grin, mock saluting him.

The boy opened the portrait hole and began speaking with whoever was on the other side.

"He's probably not _that_ mysterious," Blaise reasoned. "We just don't know anything about him."

Harry shrugged. "Hence he's mysterious."

"Hey, Harry," the boy said, glancing his way and beckoning. "Come here. They're here for you."

"Can't be particularly mysterious at all if you two are on a first name basis with each other," Blaise noted.

Harry rolled his eyes as he stood. "Well, _he's_ on a first-name basis with _me_, I think. Maybe he's a stalker."

"Oh, goody, those always liven things up," Blaise said brightly. "Well, until they start to get annoying."

Harry headed over to the door and saw Hermione, Ron, and Neville waiting for him.

"Oh, thank God!" Hermione exclaimed.

The boy turned to go.

"What are you even doing here? How did you know where we were?" Harry demanded.

Neville shrugged. "We needed to talk to you and so we asked Fred and George where we could find you. Apparently, they have no problem telling anyone and everyone who asks where the Slytherin common room is. Since we only just got back today, they couldn't help us with the password."

"Probably for the best," Harry said, trying to imagine how it would go over if three first-year Gryffindor had just barged into the Slytherin common room looking for him.

"As for why we're here-" Neville started to say but Ron interrupted him.

"Can we please talk out here?" he requested. "I don't trust _them_." He nodded towards the common room.

"But we're not talking about anything important," Harry protested.

"Not _yet_," Ron said pointedly.

Harry sighed. "Fine." He stepped out into the corridor and theatrically closed the door behind him. "Now what's so important that you had to get me at eleven at night?"

Ron looked a little embarrassed. "I…don't actually know."

"Then why did you come?" Harry asked, rubbing his temples. "And why did you two bring him?"

Hermione shrugged. "We didn't want to waste time arguing."

"And I wanted to see where the Slytherin common room was," Ron explained. "Who knew when I'd get another chance?"

"I thought Fred and George were telling anyone and everyone who asked?" Harry asked.

"Yes but since I'm their brother they might have made an exception," Ron replied.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Okay, you're here, fine. Now what's going on?"

Neville's face was serious as he answered. "Dumbledore's not here."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning. "Why not?"

"I don't know," Neville told him. "But Parvati just got back from the Hospital Wing and-"

"What, already?" Harry interrupted, dumbfounded. "But we've only just got here!"

Hermione looked mortified. "She was having a feminine problem, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said, slightly mystified. "Do go on, Neville."

Neville nodded. "So she said that Madam Pomfrey mentioned that Dumbledore and Snape weren't here and we overheard her talking with Lavender about where they might be."

"Where did they think they were?" Harry couldn't help but wondering.

"Somewhere called 'Boystown'," Ron replied.

"It doesn't really matter where they went or why," Hermione said impatiently. "What _does_ matter is that the Stone is now left unprotected so if anyone were going to steal it now would be an excellent time to do so."

"Stone?" Ron asked. "What stone?"

"We'll explain later," Harry promised.

Ron didn't look satisfied with that. "Well, what if I want to know _now_?"

"Ron, it's called the 'Philosopher's Stone'," Harry told him.

Ron made a face, clearly deciding that anything with the word 'philosopher' in it couldn't be that interesting. "On second thought, I can wait."

"So why come to me?" Harry asked. "I mean, besides the fact that I'm one of the only people you told about this."

"We were hoping that you could go to your dad," Neville told him. "And we could all make sure that no one goes after the Stone."

"Why my dad?" Harry asked, knowing that Gilderoy was the absolute _last_ person who would want to be involved when it came to doing something that was truly dangerous. "Why not, say, McGonagall?"

"We don't think any of the adults will believe us," Hermione confided. "I mean, we don't know who knows about the Stone. Professor McGonagall probably does but I think any of the teachers wouldn't do anything but yell at us for knowing about the Stone and assuring us that it's well-protected and in no danger."

"What if it _is_ well-protected and in no danger?" Harry challenged.

"Then _we_ won't be in any danger going after it," Ron decided to contribute.

"Why my dad, then, if you don't know if he knows and you said the teachers wouldn't help?" Harry asked.

"He's _your_ dad, Harry," Neville replied. "If you didn't already tell him about the Stone then he's going to be more likely to listen to you than anyone else."

Harry was weakening. It was terribly dangerous and Gilderoy wasn't going to want to have anything to do with it but if someone really was after the Stone then could they just do nothing and hope that whatever protection held?

"Besides, who would want the Stone more than You-Know-Who?" Neville asked reasonably. "What if it's him?"

Ron blanched. "You didn't tell me that _You-Know-Who_ was involved!"

Harry felt much the same way, though he hoped it was less obvious on him than it was on Ron.

"Isn't he dead?" Hermione asked, confused.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Please, Hermione. Everyone knows he's still out there."

"Alright, I'll do it," Harry agreed finally. "But let's not mention anything about You-Know-Who, okay?"

"Why not?" Neville asked curiously.

Because if they did then there was no way that Gilderoy would actually come and a good chance that his friends would all find themselves Obliviated.

"Because if we do then there's no _way_ my dad would let us come," Harry said instead.

* * *

It was too damn early when Gilderoy opened his eyes. The room was pitch-black and he was still exhausted. It was too noisy, too. There was this incessant banging that was making it impossible for him to try to get back to sleep.

Slowly, he realized that the banging was coming from his door. That was strange. People didn't usually knock on his door in the middle of the night. Quickly changing back into his robes and making himself look presentable (he wished that the knocking would cease since he _was_ coming but then, he supposed whoever was on the other side had no way of knowing that), Gilderoy opened the door.

"Yes?" Gilderoy said, opening his door.

Harry and three of his friends were on the other side.

"What are you doing here at…" Gilderoy checked his clock, "11:30 at night?"

"Maybe you guys should wait out here," Harry said, casting an uncertain glance at his friends.

"But Harry-" Ron started to object.

Hermione grabbed his arm, though. "That's fine."

Harry stepped inside and Gilderoy closed the door behind him.

"I've not going to like this, am I?" Gilderoy asked rhetorically.

"Did you know that Dumbledore's not here?" Harry asked him. "Or Snape?"

Gilderoy did his best not to wince at that. "Ah, yes. Snape broke his foot earlier this evening and he's apparently such a terrible patient that Madam Pomfrey refused to treat him and so he and Dumbledore went off to St. Mungo's. Why?"

"Hermione and Neville think that someone might use this rare time that Dumbledore isn't here to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Harry explained. "Ron's mostly just here for the ride."

"But Dumbledore wasn't here during break, either, and no one stole it then," Gilderoy pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "Well then, it's probably nothing. But they're really freaking out and came all the way to the Slytherin common room to find me. They'd feel so much better if we just went and checked."

Gilderoy sighed. "Harry…"

"I know, I know!" Harry exclaimed quickly. "But it probably is nothing and how can you really justify saying no to such a potentially important request?"

Gilderoy looked pointedly at the wand on his nightstand.

"_Dad_," Harry complained. "You can't do that to my friends. They don't even know anything incriminating!"

Gilderoy sighed again. "Fine. But only because I don't know how, short of Obliviating them, that they'll leave anytime soon."

"Do you even know anything about what's guarding it?" Harry inquired.

Gilderoy shook his head. "Nothing but that's it's on the forbidden corridor on the third floor."

"You weren't curious?" Harry pressed.

Gilderoy smiled at that. "Harry, curiosity really is the polar opposite of a good self-preservation instinct."

* * *

"This door is locked," Hermione explained, as they stood in front of the first door. "But it's just 'Alohomora' so I can't imagine it's really intended to keep anyone out. It's probably just for people who get lost and don't know what's in here so they don't accidentally barge in."

"Or for first years," Ron suggested.

Hermione looked pointedly at him.

"Well, fine, _Hermione_ can do it but I don't think that means that that's something a normal first year can do," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"Does the fact that it was locked mean that nobody is in here?" Harry asked hopefully.

Gilderoy shook his head, though. "No, that wouldn't make any sense. If all it takes is one person unlocking the door, even if they don't intend to steal the Philosopher's Stone, then either someone would need to come by and cast another spell or door is re-locked whenever it's closed again."

"Maybe Dumbledore has alarms in his office to let him know whenever someone opens the door," Neville speculated.

"That's no help to us now since he's not in there," Harry pointed out. "Do you know when Dumbledore's getting back, Dad?"

Gilderoy shook his head. "He left in such a hurry. He'll likely be back before breakfast tomorrow but…"

"That might be too late," Hermione finished for him.

They continued to just stand around for a moment longer.

Then, with more bravery than Harry felt (and maybe that was why he was sorted into Gryffindor), Neville stepped forward. "Well, shall we?"

He pushed the door open and they all filed in after him.

The first thing that any of them noticed was harp music gently playing in the background. A giant three-headed dog was sleeping right next to a trapdoor and Ron opened his mouth to say something but Hermione clasped her hand over it and looked at him meaningfully.

Ron got the picture. They didn't know why the giant three-headed dog was asleep or if it was possible to wake him but it was best not to take chances.

Gilderoy and Harry exchanged a meaningful look. The harp was _not _a good sign. It meant that there was probably somebody here after all. But there was no way to quietly convince the others to go back and even attacking and stunning or Obliviating them wouldn't be done fast enough to get all three of them. One might make a fuss and wake the dog and then they were all dead. Not to mention, of course, that Harry really didn't want to attack his friends who were only trying to do the right thing (yes, even Ron).

And so there really was no choice but to continue on from here.

"I'll go first," Ron whispered when they had all crept to the trapdoor.

He made to jump in but Gilderoy grabbed his arm. "_Think_, boy! Why would you just jump without seeing what's down there?" He stuck his wand down into the trapdoor to muffle the light and hopefully keep the dog asleep for awhile longer and cast a quiet Lumos.

Looking down, they saw a giant plant shrinking back from the light.

"Devil's Snare," Hermione and Neville said simultaneously.

"I'll go," Neville offered. "Hermione taught me how to do that fire charm so I should be fine."

Gilderoy nodded, glad that he wouldn't be called upon to do it even if he could cast a Lumos. "Be careful."

Neville smirked. "I'm a Gryffindor."

Then he was gone.

Hermione gave him a minute and then she jumped, too.

"I just thought of something," Ron said, grabbing Harry's arm. "Say we succeed…how are we going to get back from here? Will anyone even know that we're down here? Are we going to starve to death down here?"

"Relax, Ron, my Dad flooed St. Mungo's before we left and left a message for Dumbledore explaining where we were going and why," Harry assured him.

Ron turned to Lockhart with newfound respect in his eyes. "Really? Blimey."

"Well," Gilderoy said, pleased, "I was a Ravenclaw."

Review Please!


	30. Literary Obstacles

Chapter Thirty: Literary Obstacles

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"It's really warm in here," Harry commented as he stood up and brushed himself off.

"That would probably be because Neville's gone crazy," Ron replied, gesturing to a corner of the room where there was a large fire burning and no trace of that plant from earlier.

"I didn't go crazy," Neville claimed. "I am just wreaking vengeance on the monster that tried to kill me."

"Neville, it's a _plant_," Harry said, eyeing Neville strangely.

"I know," Neville assured him. "But it still tried to kill me."

"It's not a bad idea," Gilderoy spoke up. "This way we won't have to deal with it again on our way back."

"As long as we put the fire out afterwards," Hermione decided. "I don't _think_ that stone can catch fire but this is a magical fire and I'd rather be safe than come back to a raging inferno."

"Me, too," Harry agreed.

Neville eyed the fire critically. "Well…I think that ought to do it. Even if it's not completely burned up, it should be dead now. Or at least too terrified to try to kill us on the way back."

"Unless _it_ wants bloody vengeance, too," Ron pointed out.

Neville rolled his eyes as he killed the fire. "Please, Ron. It's a _plant_."

Ron spluttered but followed them down the only available corridor.

A thought occurred to Harry. "You guys should probably know that my father left a message from Professor Dumbledore so he'll hopefully get here soon."

Hermione looked like she could kiss him and clapped her hands together in joy. "Oh, that's _wonderful_! Once he gets here, everything will be alright." She cast a nervous glance at Gilderoy. "Not that things aren't alright _now_ but we really don't know what's down there and…_Professor Dumbledore_…"

Gilderoy smiled at her. "I quite understand what you mean, Miss Granger. Not all of us can be the only one that You-Know-Who ever feared."

Hermione smiled back in relief that she hadn't offended him.

"So do you think we should just wait here or something?" Neville asked. "Since Dumbledore's coming anyway?"

"We can't do that!" Ron objected. "What's the point in us even being here then?"

"To make sure that whoever is here doesn't get the Stone and leave," Harry replied promptly.

"I think we should try to get through the obstacles that we think we can pass," Gilderoy told them. "Stop if there's one that we think might end in death. We don't want to just sit around, though, as then we risk being caught unawares should whoever is here succeed at getting the Stone and try to come back the way they came."

"And if we run into whoever that is while we're looking for the Stone?" Ron asked uncertainly.

"If we're very lucky and quiet, he won't see us and we won't have to face him," Gilderoy replied. "After all, I might be fine but I can't just think about myself. I have four first-years – including my own son – to consider and challenging whoever it is under the circumstances would be the height of foolishness. We would just need to watch him or her and see if they have the Stone so we can tell Dumbledore what he's up against."

Hermione nodded her head. "That's a good idea."

"Is that…birds?" Neville asked, puzzled, as they approached a large room with winged creatures flying every which way.

"I can't tell," Gilderoy admitted. "Okay, the door is on the other side of the room and there's a good chance that the birds will attack us so everyone cover your face and make a run for it."

Hermione looked sick.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I've _seen_ 'The Birds'," Hermione admitted, biting her lip. "The short story was far scarier, of course, and the 60s special effects aren't the best – and then there's the 60s _plot_ – but still…"

Harry gently squeezed her hand. "Just run as fast as you can."

"What if I run into the wall on the other side?" Hermione persisted.

"Hold your hand out like this," Ron suggested, demonstrating. He had one arm covering his face and the other arm outstretched to hit the wall before he could.

Hermione nodded bravely. "Okay, I can do this."

"Ready…go," Gilderoy told them and they all took off.

Not that they dared to look but none of them were attacked on their way over.

"I don't understand," Neville said, frowning. "What's the point in putting birds in here if they're just going to leave us alone?"

Gilderoy pulled on the handle of the door. "I don't think they're birds. There are brooms over there and we can't get this door opened."

"Did you try 'Alohomora'?" Hermione inquired.

Gilderoy, not actually able to cast that spell, shook his head. "It won't work. If it were that easy then no one would use the keys."

"Unless everyone assumed that it was just too easy and never tried it," Hermione suggested. She waved her wand at the door but it was still locked. She shrugged. "Oh well. It was a bit of a long-shot and if we hadn't tried it but it would have worked then we all would have looked really silly."

"Do you think we should take the brooms up and try to catch it?" Neville asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not just yet. Let's find what we're looking for fi-found it."

"Where?" Ron asked, trying to follow Harry's gaze.

"Right there, it's moving slower than the other ones. I guess maybe its wing got busted when whoever used it to get past this room," Harry said, pointing. After a few minutes, everyone had noticed the key.

"The brooms it is," Hermione said, not sounding pleased by this prospect.

"Not necessarily," Gilderoy – who also didn't like to fly – said slowly. "We can always try that later but in the meantime let's do it this way. Even if we fail, it will just mean less keys to weave through. Does anyone know a good stunning spell?"

Well, they all knew something. Even Gilderoy, as it happened, although his really only worked about half the time and he'd never been able to figure out why.

They all took out their wands and started firing stunners at the various keys. Unfortunately, while hitting _a_ key and sending it plummeting to the earth wasn't hard, the nearby keys always sacrificed themselves for the key they were actually after. Dozens of keys had rained down on them – a few actually hitting them – by the time that Harry managed to fell the right one with a lucky stunner.

Harry stared down at the key at his feet.

"You do the honors," Neville encouraged him.

Harry picked up the key and (far more gently than whoever had come before them had done), used the key to unlock the door.

"Let's keep it with us in case the door is locked from both sides," Gilderoy suggested and so Harry obligingly held onto the key. It would have been more convenient if he could have pocketed it but there was no way that those wings would have fit.

As they continued walking, Gilderoy turned to Hermione. "I read 'The Birds', too, though I've never had occasion to see the movie. Right after I read it, I went outside and there were birds _everywhere_. I don't know why I hadn't noticed before, maybe just because they were birds and thus everywhere. But I've never trusted them since."

"Birds might be the death of all of us," Hermione said solemnly.

Ron laughed. "The way you guys are talking, we should have mobilized them and sent them after Death Eaters."

Neville rubbed his chin. "That's not actually a bad idea. Or at least keys like that. The Death Eaters would have been so busy defending themselves from the keys that they'd be easy targets. In fact, I'll look into that in the future."

"You think the Death Eaters will be back?" Ron asked horrified.

"With You-Know-Who not dead, of course they will," Neville said matter-of-factly.

Ron jerked. "YOU-KNOW-WHO'S NOT DEAD?"

"There wasn't a body," Harry pointed out. "If people can say that Elvis isn't dead when he had a body then I think a good case can be made for You-Know-Who not being dead when there are no witnesses to this supposed death. For all we know, he was just so embarrassed at not being able to kill a baby and maybe over the whole 'evil overlord' thing and so he just left."

"I will be having nightmares forever and it's all you guy's fault," Ron announced to the world at large.

"What did we say?" Neville asked, feigning confusion.

"Oh, who even knows?" Harry asked, playing along.

"Is that…a chessboard?" Hermione asked as they came into the next room. "A life-sized chess board and it seems to be blocking our way into the next room."

Harry winced. "Oh, I've read this one."

"Read what?" Neville asked.

" 'All the King's Horses'," Harry replied. "It's a short story by Kurt Vonnegut."

"Involving life-sized chess pieces?" Ron asked.

"Involving people forced to take the place of chess pieces and play a game," Harry explained. "And when their piece was taken, they were killed." The part that he didn't like to think about was that in the end Kelly had sacrificed his son for the victory. That debt had not been collected, fortunately.

Ron went white. "They wouldn't _really_ kill us, would they?"

"Why not?" Gilderoy asked. "We shouldn't be here in the first place. Still, Dumbledore did set this up so there's decent odds that it will just knock us unconscious."

"How are you at chess?" Ron asked Gilderoy. "I'm better than Neville, Hermione, and Harry."

"He's some kind of prodigy," Harry confirmed.

Gilderoy shrugged. "I can play it but if you're really that good then I suggest we leave this to you."

Ron winced. "I'm good, don't get me wrong, but I'm not exactly…I don't play conservatively. I don't know how I'd do with all of your lives in the balance."

"Then don't play with all of us," Gilderoy suggested.

Ron frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I wouldn't step onto that chess board for all the world and I wouldn't let Harry, either," Gilderoy told them. "If you take the place of the king you'll be as safe as you can be and as long as you win you'll be fine."

"Don't we all have to take the place of one of the black pieces, though?" Hermione asked, confused.

Gilderoy shrugged. "Perhaps. The Stone-stealer was likely anticipated to be merely one man, though, and even if we do all have to take a square, wouldn't it be silly if we didn't try it this way first?"

Hermione smiled at the echo of her own words.

Ron nodded. "Right, here goes. I hope this works because I really don't need this kind of pressure."

He walked up to the king and the king obligingly moved out of his way.

Fortunately, the moment that Ron stepped onto the square, a white pawn moved ahead two squares.

"Thank goodness!" Hermione exclaimed.

They lapsed into silence for awhile, watching the game.

The first time a piece was taken, the other piece violently smashed into it and dragged it off the board.

Neville winced. "Harsh."

Ron laughed darkly. "You're telling me."

"Relax," Harry advised. "You'll be fine. Just don't lose."

"Not that there's any pressure or anything," Ron said dryly.

"That's the spirit!" Harry said encouragingly.

They were quiet again as time passed and the game went on.

Neville yawned. "Not that watching Ron place chess isn't _fascinating_ but it is kind of late."

"Hey, you're the ones who came and got me close to bedtime," Harry pointed out.

"And whoever this is is the one who decided to steal the Stone practically in the middle of the night," Neville retorted.

"Guys!" Ron yelled at them. "Are you even paying attention?"

Guiltily, they focused back on the chess match.

"Thank you," Ron said, mollified. "I'm about to win. Watch this. Check."

The queen moved in front of the king.

Ron directed another one of his pieces. "Check and mate."

"You really have a talent for that," Gilderoy said, impressed. "You might want to look into entering tournaments over the summer or when you get out of school."

"They have chess tournaments?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.

Gilderoy nodded. "Of course. If it can be competitive, there is some form of tournament for it. The muggles host the tournaments, though, so the pieces don't talk and you have to manually move them. Other than that, it's the same as wizarding chess."

"Is there prize money?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Would anyone enter if there wasn't?" Gilderoy asked rhetorically.

Ron left the chessboard and the five of them started to head past the board. Harry was a little apprehensive about whether or not the white pieces would let those that hadn't played past the board and what Ron would do to them if he was forced to go on alone. Fortunately, that was not the case and they were all permitted to pass unmolested.

"So how many more of these trials are there?" Ron wondered.

Neville shrugged. "Who knows?"

Ron stopped. "You really should."

"I guess we could start to guess who is most likely to have enchanted which trap and then guess who else Dumbledore might trust but at this point that would probably just be wasting time," Hermione reasoned.

"You could have figured it out sooner," Ron pointed out.

"We could have," Neville agreed. "But then there was that thing with the dragon and-"

"Dragon?" Harry asked curiously.

"We're really not supposed to talk about that," Neville said. "Sorry." He didn't sound sorry.

Harry groaned as they neared the next room. "That smells like a troll."

"So? You've dealt with a troll before," Ron pointed out.

"_Pansy_ did most of it when she beat it to death with its own club," Harry retorted. "And even if she hadn't, I wouldn't want to face that again."

"Fortunately, you won't have to," Gilderoy said, gesturing towards the troll lying flat on its back and unconscious.

Ron promptly levitated the troll's club and started beating its head with it.

"What the hell are you doing?" Neville demanded.

"I'm not taking any risks on it waking up," Ron said stubbornly.

"I think you just killed it," Harry informed him.

Ron lit up. "Did I? Cool. Do you think I'll get to be in the paper like Pansy?"

"Ron," Hermione said, looking horrified. "You just _killed _something!"

Ron shrugged, nonplussed. "Yeah, but it's a troll so it doesn't count."

Hermione sighed heavily. "I worry about the state of our future."

"It's a common worry," Gilderoy assured her.

The minute they entered the next room, a purple fire sprang up behind them and a black fire in front of them. Well, to be more precise, the minute that _most_ of them were in the room. Ron, held up examining his trophy, was caught on the other side of the fire.

"Really?" Ron complained. They could barely here him. "I hate you all."

"It wasn't _our_ fault," Neville pointed out. "You just took too long."

"Look," Harry exclaimed. There was a note on a table with seven bottles. "It's a poem. It says that two bottles have wine, three have poison, one gets you forward, and one gets you back."

"So I guess we're stuck here unless we figure it out," Gilderoy concluded.

"Okay, this one _I've_ read before," Neville announced. "It's a basic whodunit. Except instead of, well, who committed the crime you have to solve for the bottle. I was always terrible at these. I never let myself figure it out and always went straight for the solution."

"Miss Granger, would you care to have a go?" Gilderoy asked politely.

Hermione looked almost petrified. "But…I…What if I get one of you killed?"

"Not to worry," Gilderoy assured her. "Harry and I each always carry a bezoar on us at all times so you can guess wrong about the poison twice."

"I'd rather not have it come to that," Hermione said grimly.

"Then get it right," Gilderoy suggested.

Hermione nodded and leaned forward to read the paper. After that, she began walking around, murmuring to herself and tapping bottles.

Finally, after about ten minutes, she nodded decisively. "This one gets us forward and this one gets us back. I might have known this one would be the forward one since it's half-empty."

"Hermione, you and Neville go back," Gilderoy instructed, not leaving any room for argument.

Neville nodded. "But what about you and Harry?"

"We'll talk about it," Gilderoy said shortly. "Don't drink all of the potion, just in case."

"Go back and try to meet Dumbledore, see if he's back yet," Harry told them. He handed Hermione the key. "He probably doesn't have the stone yet or he wouldn't be in here."

"I can see a figure through the fire," Gilderoy elaborated. He frowned. "Is that…?"

"Is that what?" Hermione asked immediately.

Gilderoy shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Just go."

Hermione and Neville, both looking incredibly worried, wished them luck and then took their potion and stepped through the fire.

Gilderoy waited until the trio was out of sight on their way back towards help when he turned back to Harry.

Harry had never seen him looking so serious in his entire life.

Review Please!


	31. To Act Or Not To Act

Chapter Thirty-One: To Act Or Not To Act

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"This is bad," Gilderoy said without preamble.

"I know," Harry agreed. "I can't believe that we've really managed to end up so far into this without either getting ourselves killed or Dumbledore getting here."

"I don't know what Dumbledore's excuse is – maybe the nurse I spoke to didn't want to interrupt him – but aside from the potions we haven't done anything _that_ dangerous," Gilderoy pointed out.

"The poison's pretty dangerous," Harry pointed out. "After all, there was no reason to think that that little riddle would give us the right answer when it makes just as much sense to make the right potions in the supposed poison bottles or to just not have them here at all as anyone who is supposed to be going through here can bring their own potion."

"That is true," Gilderoy agreed.

Suspicion began to dawn in Harry's eyes. "So why did you…_Father_!"

"What?" Gilderoy asked innocently.

"You used Hermione and Neville to test out whether or not the bottles did what they said they would!" Harry accused.

"Would you rather I tested it on us and we may have died?" Gilderoy inquired.

Harry looked down. "Well…no…But I still don't want my friends to die!"

"And they didn't," Gilderoy replied calmly. "In fact, right now I'd say that they're safer than we are."

"But they _could_ have died," Harry said stubbornly.

Gilderoy sighed. "And if one or both of them started dying we _do_ have two bezoars."

Harry was surprised. "You would have given those to them?"

Gilderoy drew himself up, almost offended. "Regardless of what you might think, Harry, I do not relish the thought of watching children die."

"No, of course not, I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "It's just that, without those bezoars, we'd be out of luck ourselves considering Hermione either got the riddle wrong or the bottles were mislabeled."

"Miss Granger is such a perfectionist that I trust she would solve the riddle correctly and so if she drank poison it would be because she was lied to," Gilderoy told him. "And if we know that the riddle cannot be trusted then none of us would be drinking anything else and so it would be fine."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense."

It was quiet for a moment.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked finally, worriedly.

"I say that we go back the way we came and wait for Dumbledore," Gilderoy suggested.

"But what about the Stone?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Dumbledore should be here soon and he has a far better chance of protecting it than either of us do," Gilderoy pointed out.

Harry bit his lip. "Yes but…"

"But what?" Gilderoy asked.

"You saw someone on the other side of the fire," Harry reminded him.

Gilderoy winced. He really shouldn't have mentioned that. "I did, yes."

"Do you recognize who it was?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

He could lie but there was a chance that Harry wouldn't believe him and, given the almost excessive amount of dishonesty already in his life, that was really the last thing he needed.

"I couldn't see his face," Gilderoy admitted. "And while it _could_ be anyone in a disguise, he was wearing a purple turban."

"Quirrell?" Harry asked, stunned.

"It looks like it," Gilderoy confirmed.

Harry relaxed. "Well, that's no problem then. It's _Quirrell_."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Gilderoy cautioned.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously. "He can't string a sentence together without stuttering at least twice!"

"I would have thought that growing up as you did you would have learned that appearances are not always reflective of reality," Gilderoy said pointedly.

"Yeah but…_Quirrell_," Harry said as if that settled the matter.

"Someone took down that troll," Gilderoy pointed out. "I know that I wouldn't feel comfortable in my ability to take one down. And, despite your Halloween misadventures, can you say that you _would_?"

Harry sighed. "Well, no…"

"So clearly Quirrel is not as harmless as he appears," Gilderoy concluded. "He might be the one who attempted to steal the Stone at Gringott's a few months ago."

"He didn't succeed," Harry argued.

"He didn't get caught, either. And because he didn't get caught, that likely means that it wasn't a matter of not being able to reach the vault he wanted but of the Stone having been moved already," Gilderoy continued. A thought occurred to him. "And I remember Hagrid complaining about slaughtered unicorns in the forest. We don't really have any reason to think that it was Quirrell other than his going after the Philosopher's Stone. However, if that _was_ Quirrell…"

Harry shivered. "Then he is seriously bad news."

Gilderoy was relieved that Harry now seemed to be speaking sense. "So now do you see why we need to just go back and let Dumbledore handle it? If it's your friends' reactions you are worried about then you can tell them whatever you like and you know I'll support your story."

Harry shook his head. "It's not that. I mean, of course I don't want them to think ill of me but that's really not important right now."

"Then what is?" Gilderoy asked slowly, hoping that Harry wasn't about to discover some hitherto unseen hero complex he would have gotten from his Gryffindor parents.

"If he escapes with the Philosopher's Stone…I'm not going to say that he'd be invincible because he wouldn't be but all the money and life in the world…who knows what he could do with that? He could set himself up as the next dark lord! And, even though I don't remember You-Know-Who's reign, I think that's really the _last_ thing any of us needs. And we'll have to deal with the Dark Lord Quirrell, too," Harry said seriously.

"That would be very bad," Gilderoy reluctantly agreed. "But Harry, _think_. Dumbledore won't let that happen and he'll be here soon enough."

Harry crossed his arms. "He should have been here _already_."

"I'm not going to pretend that I understand or am pleased by this delay either, Harry," Gilderoy conceded, "but it's really all we can do."

"Is it?" Harry challenged. "We could go in there and-"

"Get ourselves killed," Gilderoy interrupted.

"We could get ourselves killed just waiting here, too," Harry pointed out.

"We could trap him," Gilderoy countered. "We could take all of the potion that takes us back through the flames and then Quirrell would have no way out and it doesn't matter if Dumbledore shows up five minutes from now or five _days_ from now – aside from the fact he might be dead by then – because there's no way Quirrell's getting through the fire."

"There might be another exit in that room so the people who visit it legitimately don't have to go back through all of those traps," Harry argued.

Gilderoy rolled his eyes. "Even if there were that's no reason to think that Quirrell knows about it. And even if there is, we don't know when Quirrell got down here but he's been standing still for quite awhile now so it's possible – nay, probable – that the trap he's on now has stymied him."

Harry looked confused.

"Stopped," Gilderoy clarified.

Harry was shaking his head. "I just don't think that I can take that chance."

"You don't have a choice," Gilderoy said flatly.

Harry somehow managed to get his hands on the vial that would take him through the fire to face Quirrell. "I think I do, actually. You might be able to stun me but there's no guarantee that it would even work. In fact, the only way to guarantee that you'll be able to stop me is if you Obliviate me. And I guess the question that I have for you is, would you be willing to do that to your own son? I won't remember, of course, but you will."

That hit him hard. He had never really considered Obliviating Harry. He had never thought there would be a need to. And now, Harry was right, it might be the only way to save him but once he started down that path…There weren't a lot of lines that Gilderoy had because he found that they mostly just served to inconvenience him and stop him from getting what he wanted.

But to Obliviate his own son? No matter the reasons, there had to be something wrong with that. It wasn't like the random strangers he usually Obliviated. Harry was someone that he had not just _watched_ grow up but actually helped raise. This was someone who knew exactly how he had acquired his wealth and fame and trusted him anyway.

This was someone who was, even now, practically daring him to Obliviate him and believing absolutely that it would never happen. Would he ever be able to face him again if he betrayed that faith?

"There's got to be something I can do to talk you out of this," Gilderoy said desperately.

"There isn't," Harry said softly. "But don't worry, I don't expect you to-"

"I can't let you go in there by yourself, Harry," Gilderoy interrupted.

"W-what?" Harry asked, startled.

"You're eleven. You'll die," Gilderoy pointed out.

"We don't both need to die," Harry practically whispered.

"We don't either of us need to die," Gilderoy said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. This was stupid and irresponsible and _Gryffindor_ and reminding him very strongly why he left the heroics to other people but Harry wasn't giving him much of a choice here. "We can compromise."

"I'm not sure how we can," Harry said honestly. "You don't want me going in there and I fully intend to go in there."

Gilderoy noticed that Harry didn't say that he _wanted_ to go in there. Well, that was good. It proved that he wasn't _completely_ beyond hope.

"I don't know how long those potions last. It will probably let us walk through the fire for longer the more we drink of it," Gilderoy reasoned. "So we each drink as close to half as we can, hit him with the most powerful Obliviate that we can muster, and then – regardless of if he appears to be down or not – we retreat back through here. We then drink what remains of the potion to get back to where we came from so we're absolutely positive that Quirrell cannot follow us. And _then_ we wait for Dumbledore."

As far as plans went, it really wasn't much of one and relied on the idea that they could react before Quirrell did. The fact that Quirrell seemed so immersed in his own task was a good sign but then it might be the case that Quirrell knew that they were there and was just not interested in them as long as they stayed away from him.

In that case, if they went in there they might find that Quirrell was perfectly prepared for him after all. And just because he'd given every indication of being a terrible wizard over the last few months didn't actually make that true. And even a terrible wizard, depending on _how_ terrible, might be a match for him and Harry anyway.

And even if it succeeded, there might be some awkward questions asked once it became known that Gilderoy and Harry both knew how to Obliviate someone. That was not a restricted spell per se but it was generally one that people did not bother learning unless they were using it for some nefarious purpose or had the job of Obliviating muggles.

But it was too late to be paralyzed by second thoughts (as much as he might have liked to have stayed there forever) and so Harry gulped down half the potion and handed the rest of to him to drink.

Gilderoy shuddered slightly as what felt like liquid ice passed through his system. He hadn't mentioned that their Obliviations should be silent but he rather hoped that by now that was just something that Harry understood.

The pair of them passed through the flames (always a daunting task for a Muggleborn, walking through something that you knew shouldn't be able to be walked through no matter how many times you did it and especially so on your very first try) and, in sync, they sent their strongest Obliviation towards Quirrell.

A very high-pitched and someone alarmed voice cried out, "BEHIND-!" and then fell silent as Quirrell pitched forward.

Harry frowned. "That didn't-"

Gilderoy grabbed him and dragged him back through the fire as they had agreed.

"Now what was it that you were saying?" Gilderoy asked, feeling the ice slowly drain away. Honestly, just because wizards _could_ survive being made to feel like their insides were ice did not mean that it was a particularly good idea and he really thought that flame immunity potions like that should have been modified to get rid of the unpleasant effects. Although, to be fair, without those someone might stay in the fire for too long because they didn't know when the effects would be wearing off.

"I was saying that that didn't sound like Quirrell," Harry dutifully repeated.

Gilderoy nodded. "No, it didn't. And it sounded like whoever it was was shouting out a warning. Presumably 'behind you.' And yet he fell silent when we took out Quirrell."

"We did it," Harry said, smiling a little giddily.

"But we're not done yet," Gilderoy reminded him. "We still need to get through the other-"

He broke off as the flames – both of them – suddenly died. That wasn't a good sign. Except that maybe it was because he saw Dumbledore hurrying towards them, moving faster than he had ever seen the man move.

"What's going on?" Dumbledore demanded once he'd reached them. "Is someone actually trying to steal something? How far have they gotten?"

Harry looked to him and, as the adult, apparently he was the one who had to give the explanation although he'd really rather not.

"Someone is here," Gilderoy confirmed. "We saw a turban and so we believe that it is Professor Quirrell though we did not get close enough to see for certain."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good, good. We would have been more dangerous than you anticipated." He frowned. "But the flame is gone and he didn't come out here…how curious…"

"We attacked him, sir, and then came back here. We were going to use what was left of the potion to get back and find Neville, Hermione, and Ron," Harry explained.

"Let me go see," Dumbledore instructed. "You two wait here."

Obligingly, the pair waited in silence for Dumbledore to go check on the status of Quirrell.

Dumbledore returned shortly, giving them both appraising looks. "He's not unconscious and yet he seems to be out of it. I have my theories but I won't be able to confirm those without getting him looked at by a competent medical professional and alas Poppy is not here with us now. What did you do to him?"

Gilderoy had always known that Obliviation could be detected if the healer in question was looking for it and once Quirrell was unable to tell them much of anything (he didn't always know what he was doing when it came to magic but Obliviation was his thing and Harry had had some practice as well though just for practice's sake) then Obliviation was the natural conclusion. Lying now would only indicate that he had something to hide.

As he did, in fact, have a great deal to hide it was very important that he not give off that impression.

"We didn't know how strong he was," Gilderoy began carefully. "I didn't want Harry facing him at all but he did not give me an alternative short of attacking him and I was not willing to do that. We weren't sure if a stunner would work or, if it did, for how long and neither of us were prepared to kill him. Though neither of us had ever used it before, I thought that erasing at least some of his memory might leave him disoriented and confused. It would give us time to flee and maybe stop him from continuing to look for the Philosopher's Stone. I think it worked since he fell over but I do not know which spell worked or if both did or how effective it was or if we accidentally cast another spell entirely. And a memory-erasing spell, from what I know, isn't something that can be so easily shaken off."

Dumbledore nodded again. "Memory spells are incredibly dangerous and possibly irreversibly damaging spells that are best left to the professions for just such a reason. I can understand your anxiety, however, and in this situation – when it was just the two of you against the would-be thief of the Philosopher's Stone – I find that I cannot blame you. I don't know how much Quirrell has lost but I do know that there is much to be done. If you are hurt, please head to the Hospital Wing. If not then kindly return to your common room, Harry. Gilderoy, you may go as well but I would speak with you when I have a moment."

"Of course," Gilderoy said, nodding, and then he and Harry walked back the way they came.

If that was heroics then it wasn't _nearly_ as bad as he had feared it would be.

Just the same, it was safe to say that he was never ever under any circumstances _ever_ going to be doing something like this again.

Review Please!


	32. The Aftermath

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Aftermath

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: On the matter of whether or not Gilderoy is intelligent enough to be a Ravenclaw, I think that he'd have to be, even in canon. After all, even if people in the wizarding world aren't always the brightest (thus possibly lowering the standards for Ravenclaw), Gilderoy is still smart enough to fool them into thinking he's some big hero and build up a huge reputation and nicely manage his fame. He also manages to find appropriate stories of heroism before anyone else has heard the details and convince everyone that he was actually the one to do it. And so far, he's never been caught. He may not be the expert he claims to be, but his accomplishments – dubious though they are – indicate that he's far from stupid.

Poppy was a true professional. Albus had always known that but it had never been quite so apparent at it was now that she was performing tests on Quirrell and his little soul-passenger. It helped that she trusted him and he was pleased that, in this matter at least, he was able to live up to that faith. The room – not the Hospital Wing, he couldn't put that out of commission – was the most heavily-warded room he had ever crafted and even now new ideas to ensure that he could keep the prisoner (prisoners?) here were occurring to him and begging to be put into action.

"Well?" Albus asked once she had finished her scans and approached him.

"They are both completely amnesiac," Poppy remarked, shaking her head in wonder. "They know a little bit about the world but You-Know-Who, at least, seems quite shocked that magic is real. Professor Quirrell accepts that much. Neither of them seem particularly surprised that they are sharing a body despite not remembering the circumstances behind it."

Albus nods. "That makes sense. Voldemort was unaware of the existence of magic until he received his Hogwarts letter while Quirrell grew up aware of his heritage. And perhaps it is for the best that, until we can find a way to separate them, they are not distressed by their connection."

"Dumbledore…" Poppy said slowly, hesitantly. "As a medi-witch devoted to the caring and protection of my patients I would not normally suggest this but in this case I don't see that I have any other option."

"Yes?" Albus gestured for her to continue, having a feeling that he knew where this was going.

"Why don't you just kill him now?" Poppy asked him earnestly. "Having him here poses so great a danger that I tremble at it and it could ruin everything that we've tried to build over the past ten years. It could send us all back to that darkest of times. We couldn't even trust Azkaban for him with all of his best followers there and the Dementors his old allies. And what benefit does keeping him alive do? Human compassion? I think we're rather past that with him."

Albus bowed his head. "I quite agree with you, Poppy. If I could then I would certainly end Lord Voldemort here."

"But?" Poppy asked, clearly under the impression that any justification he could come up with for not killing him now would be insulting.

"I cannot kill him right now for the same reason that his backfired killing curse did not kill him after he murdered Lily and James," Albus explained. "As to what that reason is…Well, I have my theories."

A Horcrux seemed the most likely explanation but he was not going to go throwing that knowledge around if he could help it. It would only cause a panic and possibly alert any remaining semi-loyal followers Voldemort had so that they would know to add extra protections. No, he was all that he needed right now to try and track down the Horcrux and if, by some tragedy, he was unable to find and destroy it within his lifetime then he'd just leave a sealed letter with his will to Severus or somebody instructing them to finish the job.

And there might even be more than one Horcrux. It seemed ridiculous, of course, because splitting one's soul _once_ was already far too dark for most wizards but Voldemort had been a Muggleborn. Perhaps not in the strictly technical way that both of his parents had been Muggles but he had been raised ignorant of his magical heritage in a muggle orphanage and so it amounted to the same thing, really. Muggleborns, no matter how long they had spent in the wizarding world, often just thought at a fundamentally different level than those who were raised in the magical world. It was not a bad thing, no matter what Voldemort's followers and sympathizers might have believed, but it did give them a different value system at times.

He had never met anyone but a Muggleborn, for example, who would get horrified over the treatment of House Elves. He himself was not horrified. He'd gladly pay one if that was what they wanted but they _didn't_ and he would not try to force them to live according to his standards when they were happy enough where they were.

As a Muggleborn, it was entirely possible that Voldemort had never really _gotten_ what was so terrible about splitting his soul and might not have seen a problem doing it more than once just to get a slightly better chance to avoid death. Fearing death was hardly a rare trait in a wizard, as the ghosts of the realm could attest to. And there had been more once but once a ghost no longer feared leaving the mortal plane then they moved on. It usually took at _least_ decades and there were some that Albus doubted would ever reach that state, no matter _how_ long 'never' really was.

Poppy nodded at that, not happy exactly but accepting of it and still trusting him to be able to take care of it. And he would, he resolved. No matter what it took.

* * *

No one really cared if you stayed out all night if you were at least a fifth year because then everyone just assumed that you were sneaking into a tavern or having sex. If you were a first year, though, then apparently your whereabouts are the most interesting thing anyone in your entire house could possibly be thinking about and they were quite anxious to share the wonder by talking about it nonstop.

"So, again, you're _positive_ that you didn't lose any points while you were gone?" Draco pressed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course I am."

"And you don't think you'll lose any in the future? Did anybody see you?" Draco asked urgently.

"Dumbledore did, yes," Harry conceded.

There was a loud groan from most of the room.

"What? After what happened there's really no way that he would take points away. In fact, he'll probably give us some and then we can beat Gryffindor again," Harry assured them. He paused. "It's hard to be very interested in this when we apparently win every year."

"We are going for a record," one of the older students informed him. "We only need two more years of winning and then we've got it. But we'd really like to keep this going as long as possible to decrease the odds that anyone will ever manage to break _our_ record."

"What did you do out of bounds in the middle of the night that could _possibly_ get you points?" Daphne demanded. "And does it have anything to do with the fact that Muggle Studies was cancelled today?"

"How do you even _know_ that?" Draco demanded. "Is it because of your cousin?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "No, it's not. I just pay attention."

Theodore winced. "Oh, wow. I really hope you didn't do anything to cause Quirrell to quit on us or be forced to leave his position."

"I…I don't know," Harry admitted. Having Voldemort on the back of his head probably meant that that was going to be the case. "But if anything like that happens then it is _so_ not my fault!"

Theodore shook his head sadly. "If it were the Defense professor – not your dad in particular, just that job holder – and it were May or June then it wouldn't be such a big deal as apparently something like that happens every year. Now, though? January with the Muggle Studies professor? Yeah, I don't even _want_ to know what they're going to do to you."

"Don't scare him," Pansy chided.

"You'd rather he'd be surprised when McGonagall gets his hands on him?" Theodore asked rhetorically.

"I don't think I should really talk about it yet," Harry said slowly, partially because he really didn't want to and partially because he didn't know what the official story was going to be yet. Ron, Neville, and Hermione had been there for most of it but by the end when Voldemort showed up there was only Gilderoy and himself. "I _can_ tell you that Ron killed a troll because he thought it was cool when Pansy did it."

"Ron? Ron Weasley?" Tracy wrinkled her nose. "You were hanging out with _Gryffindors_? That explains why you were gone all night."

"Ron Weasley managed to kill a _troll_?" Draco looked horrified.

"To be fair, it was-" Harry started to say and then stopped himself. Was there really any need to get into what state the troll was in? He wasn't sure. "Well, he had Pansy's example to follow and killed it the same way," he said instead.

"Does anyone know what 'anger management classes' are?" Pansy inquired. "Because all these Muggleborns and Half-bloods keep writing to me to suggest it after that article."

Everyone looked at Daphne.

"Oh, for-! I am _not_ a Muggle expert!" she insisted. "Go ask Hermione Granger if you're that curious."

"I'm not that curious," Draco told her.

There was a knock at the door.

Blaise groaned. "Oh, not again! If these are more Gryffindors come to drag you on more adventures then I am going to hex them."

"I'll help," Draco volunteered eagerly. "Though more out of general principle, really."

Someone finally got the door and brought back a note for Harry.

Harry took the note and skimmed it. "I'm supposed to head to the Headmaster's office."

"And you're _sure_ you're not going to lose points?" Millicent asked skeptically.

"Pretty sure," Harry replied, grinning. "And if not, well, it's January."

"Fair warning, we will hate you _forever_ if you screw this up for us," one of the older students warned.

Harry shrugged. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

"I do not want to seem ungrateful," Dumbledore began. "After all, Gilderoy, you did manage to neutralize the threat of Voldemort – at least for the time being – and allowed me to capture him until he could be properly disposed of."

"But you disapprove," Gilderoy said. It wasn't a question.

"I commend you on letting me know what was going on and I suppose I cannot blame you for not waiting for me to receive the message. I was speaking with Severus when you left your message and the medi-witch didn't want to interrupt so it took me awhile to even receive your message. I did leave as soon as I was aware of the difficulty," Dumbledore explained.

"How is Professor Snape?" Gilderoy inquired, more because that was the expected thing than because he actually cared.

"I am pleased to report that he has fully recovered and should be back at Hogwarts by now," Dumbledore explained. "It really wouldn't do for us to have to cancel two different classes today."

"Will Quirrell still be teaching after…you know," Gilderoy said, gesturing.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Alas, even if I still trusted him to handle the curriculum, there is the problem of his still being attached to Voldemort. Fortunately, there have never been a shortage of suitable Muggle Studies applicants and I should have one before the week is out."

"That's good," Gilderoy replied.

Dumbledore's blue eyes hardened again. "As I said, it is not _your_ actions that trouble me, Gilderoy, but the fact that you took several first years with you. I could understand if they went by themselves because children do do rather foolish things. However, since you – a responsible adult and a Hogwarts Professor – were involved you should not have let them go. They could have been killed."

Since they had been the ones to handle most of the traps, it was doubtful. Well…maybe if Ron had had to sacrifice one of his friends in chess. Still, Gilderoy could see Dumbledore's point and he knew that he really shouldn't have brought them. Of course, that wasn't exactly how it had happened and without them he wouldn't have gone down there at all.

"I wasn't the one to bring them," Gilderoy explained. "Hermione and Neville have been investigating this for months now and awhile back they took their questions to Harry who was able to tell them that the name they were researching, Nicholas Flamel, meant that there was a Philosopher's Stone. Somehow, Neville and Hermione discovered that you were gone from the castle and thought that that would be the best time for someone to try and steal the Stone and they were right."

"I see," Dumbledore said, nodding.

"Ron sort of tagged along as they went to go find Harry to convince me to go look into it. They were trying to do the responsible thing by getting a professor," Gilderoy continued.

"That is all well and good but they never should have been allowed to accompany you," Dumbledore insisted.

Gilderoy shrugged. "I _tried_ to send them back to bed as I'm sure they can attest to. Ultimately, they all decided that trying to save the day was more important than listening to a teacher or even their own father in Harry's case. I saw no alternative to taking them with me and watching over them aside from hexing them and I did not feel that that would be appropriate either. If I left them there then they might get hurt or killed and if I moved them there would be questions and lost time and they might end up coming after me once they'd recovered. There were no good decisions and so I did the best that I could."

Dumbledore nodded again. "Very well. I am still most disappointed that this happened but I can accept that you saw no other choice. In the future, do kindly stun them and take them to the Hospital Wing. Poppy can be most understanding."

"I hope that I will not be facing a situation like this in the future," Gilderoy said honestly.

Dumbledore almost smiled at that. "That would be the ideal outcome, yes."

There was a knock on Dumbledore's office door.

"Come in," he invited.

Harry strode into the room, a little nervous but trying to hide it. "You asked to see me, sir?"

"Yes, yes, sit down," Dumbledore said, indicating the chair next to Gilderoy. When Harry was seated, he offered him a lemon drop.

"No, thank you," Harry refused for likely the same reason that Gilderoy himself did. Who even knew what was in them? Something to relax them or make them more likely to tell the truth could be a problem.

Harry looked Gilderoy over carefully, checking to make sure that things were okay. Gilderoy nodded slightly and Harry marginally relaxed.

Dumbledore sighed. "No one ever wants a lemon drop…" He took two for himself. "Now, Harry, I'm sure you have questions."

Harry nodded. "I do, sir."

"Well I am giving you the opportunity to ask them," Dumbledore clarified.

"Why isn't You-Know-Who dead? How and why was he on the back of Professor Quirrell's face? And what's going to happen to him now?" Harry asked immediately. He did have a little bit of Ravenclaw in him, after all, and that could only be a good thing.

"_Voldemort_, Harry," Dumbledore said, possibly still a little upset that Harry refused to call him by his real name. Well, it wasn't out of fear (for either of them) but because it just seemed needlessly confrontational. "There are several possible reasons for his not being dead and you can rest assure that I am working to correct that. If it takes long enough and you get old enough before the task is done then one day you might even be able to assist in this."

Harry looked decidedly unenthused for a moment before smiling politely.

"He had been hiding out in Albania when Quirrell encountered him on Sabbatical. You wouldn't have gotten a chance to speak with Voldemort and for that I am grateful. One of his many gifts has always been his ability to bend men to his will. Any doubts or vulnerabilities that he spots – and he is very good at spotting those – and he can milk it for all that it is worth," Dumbledore explained. "It is hard, sometimes, to determine just how culpable the people who help him are and it shall certainly be a challenge once the time comes to determine what shall happen to Quirrell."

"I can imagine," Gilderoy agreed.

"Voldemort likely attached himself to Quirrell because this was important to him and Quirrell did not succeed in stealing the Stone from Gringott's. He wanted to be here directly, despite the risk or perhaps to taunt me, to make sure that Quirrell did not make any more mistakes. Extracting him without killing Quirrell will be complicated and, needless to say, we will not be letting Voldemort out of our sights. He will not return to terrorize the world again," Dumbledore vowed.

"Did the Obli…Obi…that memory spell do anything?" Harry asked, wisely deciding to feign unfamiliarity with the spell.

Dumbledore nodded. "It did extensive damage to them both though I believe that there is hope that, should Quirrell not be sent to Azkaban, he can recover to live a fulfilling life although I do not believe he will regain his memory without permanently damaging his mind and thus defeating the purpose."

"An amnesiac You-Know-Who should make him easier to contain," Gilderoy theorized.

Dumbledore nodded crisply. "Quite. I am afraid that I shall have to ask that you both keep quiet about Voldemort still being alive and us being unable to kill him for the time being. It can only worry people and perhaps inspire evil."

"I promise," Gilderoy said solemnly. "Nobody will find out that he's still alive right now from me."

Review Please!


	33. The Hero

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Hero

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

It was a well-known fact that the more secret something is supposed to be, the more likely it is that sooner or later everyone will find out about it. This truth is only helped along when there's a front-page article helpfully informing everybody about what happened – or close enough to it.

**He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Short-Lived Return**

**By Rita Skeeter**

**We've all been in a state of joy since the fall of You-Know-Who ten years ago but this bliss nearly ended abruptly two nights ago at Hogwarts Castle. It seems that the dark lord wasn't as dead as we had hoped and has been existing in a half-life state since Harry Potter saved us that Halloween night. You-Know-Who had hatched a plan to break into Hogwarts and steal the fabled Philosopher's Stone to return him to his full power. **

**Fortunately, Harry Potter was once again there to save the wizarding world from the evil monster who murdered his parents and so many more. And this time, he wasn't alone. Famed dark creatures expert and professional hero Gilderoy Lockhart, Potter's adopted father and current DADA professor at Hogwarts, was there to share the burden of ending the most evil wizard's terrible existence. **

"**I just did what any concerned citizen would do," Lockhart says modestly. "And, what's more, I did what any **_**father**_** would do. Harry destroyed him ten years ago and I wasn't about to just stand back and watch him return the favor." **

**Those involved with the incident are reluctant to speak of it but Lockhart promises a book detailing the incident in question will be released just as fast as he can write it and all of our questions about the tragedy that wasn't will be answered. **

**Also accompanying this amazing father and son hero team were three first year friends of Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Granger is a Muggleborn witch at the top of her class and the Weasleys and Longbottoms are long-time opponents of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Longbottom's parents, in fact, nearly met with tragedy themselves for their defiance when several Death Eaters broke into their house ten years ago looking for a way to revive their Master (Continued on page A2).**

Harry knew that his father had agreed not to tell anything about Voldemort still being alive _now_ but hadn't mentioned anything about not mentioning that he had almost come back and it was a little late to try and hold him to that _now_. Really, Rita Skeeter was a wonderful woman…at least if she were on your side. Harry had heard a few cautionary tales about what it was like to oppose her and he would try to avoid antagonizing her if it was possible.

Fortunately, the Philosopher's Stone was being destroyed (or so Dumbledore claimed. Gilderoy had his doubts) and so revealing it had been in the school wasn't going to put it in danger again. On the other hand, when that information had gotten out yesterday apparently Dumbledore had started to be flooded with angry letters – and Howlers! – from parents about putting their precious children in danger like that to bait a psychopath. Well, Dumbledore could probably handle it. And the end result was (for all intents and purposes) no more Voldemort so that might help.

Everyone at the Gryffindor table was cheering for their three heroes and looking at Harry with newfound respect. Well that was good because his frankly Gryffindor-ish actions were sure to lose him some with his own house.

"It's not that I _mind_ you killing the dark lord again, Harry," Draco informed him. "But did you have to bring three Gryffindor's with you to do it? Even though they only got fifty points apiece compared to your one hundred, that still puts them twenty points ahead of us!"

"We have time," Harry assured him again.

"Yes but sooner or later if you keep doing things like this then we _won't_," Draco pointed out. "Imagine if this were May or something!"

"It's not and I won't keep doing things like this," Harry promised.

"You'd better not," Draco said darkly.

"And be honest, Draco. Would you or anyone else in Slytherin have actually agreed to come with me?" Harry demanded. "Or even someone in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw?"

Draco snorted. "Are you kidding me? Of course not. That was _really_ stupid."

"And that is why I took three Gryffindors." He paused. "Or should I say that three Gryffindors took me?"

"No," Draco said immediately. "You should definitely not say that. That's the only thing worse than you taking three Gryffindors."

"What about him taking _four_ Gryffindors?" Pansy asked innocently.

"The world could not take that much Gryffindors during stupid stuff," Draco said, shuddering at the very thought.

"So…really, no one minds the fact that You-Know-Who is dead now?" Harry asked tentatively. "I mean, obviously no one here supports him and your families probably don't either except for the odd relative in Azkaban maybe but you know what I mean."

"Why would we mind?" a third-year asked. "Up until the paper got here we had all already thought that he was dead for ten years so it's kind of no big deal to learn he's dead now."

"You guys can't possibly remember," Marcus Flint told them seriously, "but I was old enough to remember the war before it ended. It was pretty chaotic. You couldn't trust anyone and people were getting murdered all over the place. A lot of Purebloods, too, so even if you don't care about Muggles or Muggleborns it was still a problem. I saw in Diagon Alley one day with my Mum and saw a wizard murdered in front of me in the streets. I don't know who it was or who killed him or what side either was on but I know it had something to do with the dark lord. I certainly wouldn't want to get dragged into that."

"Besides," Draco added thoughtfully, "while You-Know-Who might have had some believers in the upper echelons of society, if you look at the list of people going to Azkaban, they were only a few years out of Hogwarts. They really had nothing to lose. Now it's been ten years and anyone who somehow managed to escape Azkaban would have had a chance to better establish themselves and wouldn't want to throw away their position by joining up with a dark lord again."

"And You-Know-Who really wasn't the sort of person you'd say 'no' to," Theodore pointed out. "Not unless you were terminally Gryffindor."

"Are you worried that your father's might get Imperiused again?" Daphne asked innocently.

Draco's jaw dropped. "I didn't even _think_ of that! Thank goodness you stopped that, Harry!"

"I would hope not, seeing as how my dad is sixty," Theodore said dryly. "But the dark lord is probably even older and doesn't actually care if his people live or die so that might not affect it."

"And then there's the fact that if anyone _did_ manage to not go to Azkaban and pretended that they were Death Eaters, I can't imagine that the dark lord would take that well," Pansy added. "But I suppose the Death Eaters in Azkaban, who are surely crazy now if they weren't already crazy then, would be pleased. But really, who cares about them?"

Who cared, indeed?

* * *

Harry had never actually gotten fan mail before although Gilderoy assured him that he probably should have. People would have written to him for saving them from Voldemort in the first place (even though he hadn't actually done anything and according to Dumbledore it was actually something to do with his mother) but no one had known how to find him.

And even though he really didn't want to, Gilderoy insisted he address each one personally. Fortunately, he didn't have to say much to these people and they did have Quick-Quote-Quills so really all he had to do was dictate. Hopefully in time the fan mail would lessen even if Gilderoy didn't agree that that was something he should hope for and he was thoroughly enjoying his own soaring popularity.

"But I did make a promise to finish out the year and that's what I'll do," Gilderoy promised. "Besides, I'm going to want to rush out that new novel so it will be ready sometime in the summer so people won't lose interest. And then I still need to work on my autobiography, too…"

Everyone at school was treating him like the most awesome person they had ever met although Gilderoy assured him that fame was a very tricky, very fickle thing and that it was entirely possible that if he lost all of his house's points one day then everyone in Slytherin might turn on him. The rest of the houses might try and canonize him, however, since they wanted someone else to win the house cup for once even if it wasn't them.

It seemed really stupid to Harry that he could do something amazing (even if the story of what actually happened was nowhere near as exciting as what Gilderoy was probably planning on telling the world and which Dumbledore would have to live with to keep the secret of Voldemort's continued existence) and then be hated over something completely idiotic. According to Gilderoy, it was the nature of the beast and there was really no escaping it even if he wanted to so he might as well try and enjoy it.

Never let it be said that Harry could not bow to the inevitable when the inevitable was something as wonderful as undying love and admiration from virtually everyone he met. And when the tide turned and people began to lose interest or want to see him fall then he preferred to look at it as it being inevitable that that would pass and act accordingly. It had certainly worked for his father all these years and his lifestyle (or at least Obliviating those who had conquered monsters) was surprisingly dangerous for someone who hated to be at any risk at all.

"Hey, Draco, what was your dad doing here earlier?" Pansy asked as the three of them were looking through library shelves one day.

"Huh?" Draco looked surprised and maybe even a little hurt that his dad had been there but hadn't felt the need to say hello to him. "I don't know. He's on the Board of Governors, though, so he must have a reason. Maybe he wants to chew Dumbledore out about keeping the Philosopher's Stone here at Hogwarts and luring the dark lord into the castle where he might have killed us all."

"I almost feel sorry for him," Pansy confided. "And then I remember that he could have gotten us all killed and then I get over it."

"Hey, what's this?" Harry asked, spotting a shabby black book amid all the much better taken care of books on…they were in the dragon section, apparently.

"I don't know," Pansy said, pulling it out. "Property of T.M. Riddle? I've never heard of him."

Draco snorted. "Clearly it's not his anymore if he's lost it. Or maybe abandoned it. I can't imagine how a lost book would end up here."

"Maybe it's for note-taking," Harry suggested.

Pansy flipped through it. "No, it's blank."

"If he wasn't going to use it then why bother writing his name in it?" Draco asked reasonably. "It's kind of a waste. And this book looks _really_ old."

"Why don't _you_ take it, Draco?" Pansy asked him. "You don't want to waste it, after all. And I'm sure that it will be an excellent replacement over your old diary."

Draco blushed furiously. "I never had a diary!"

"What's this about a diary?" Harry asked, suddenly much more interested.

"Nothing! There was never any diary!" Draco said loudly, causing Madam Pince to shush him. "I'll take the bloody thing if it makes you shut up about that thing that never happened but I'm not going to write in it!"

"Whatever you say, Draco," Pansy said knowingly.

* * *

If Harry had thought his role in stopping Voldemort would soften Snape to him any then he would have been severely disappointed.

"Detention, Potter!" Snape called out suddenly in Potions.

Harry sighed internally and didn't look up from stirring his cauldron. "Yes, Professor."

"Seriously, you have got to start asking him what these weekly detentions are all about," Daphne urged. "It seems really unfair and now that he's figured out how to get to you without hurting Slytherin I don't see him stopping anytime soon."

"If I actually ask him then not only might he give me another one for insubordination or something but he probably does actually have some ridiculous reason," Harry replied. "After all, he's been a teacher here for _ages_."

"Maybe the dark lord being dead will mean that he'll finally get to quit Hogwarts after this year," Daphne suggested.

Harry frowned. "I don't get it. What do you think that You-Know-Who being dead has anything to do with Professor Snape's employment?"

"Well, if he really wasn't dead and Dumbledore was irresponsibly trying to lure him to a school full of children-" Daphne began.

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't what he was trying to do," Harry cut her off.

"Well then he failed because that's what happened," Daphne said, shrugging. "If that happened – and it did – then chances are that Dumbledore had to know he wasn't dead. And since Snape publicly escaped Azkaban because Dumbledore himself stood up for him and said that he was Dumbledore's spy, leaving him out in the open and not under Dumbledore's direct protection is practically _asking_ for him to get himself killed."

"But wouldn't he still be in danger from any Death Eaters that aren't in Azkaban?" Harry inquired.

Daphne shrugged again. "Oh, what do they care? He's been gone for ten years now and they all have their own tales of denial to spin. No, the only people still alive now that Snape might have to fear are all locked up safely in Azkaban. And wouldn't you like having a Potions professor who didn't hate you?"

"I don't know what I'd do with myself," Harry deadpanned. "I mean, it's just such an important part of the Hogwarts experience having at least one teacher hate you."

Daphne smiled at that and shook her head. "But seriously, Harry, if you don't want to ask then I can get Draco to ask or something. He's Snape's godson and Snape wouldn't want to anger Mr. Malfoy by being mean to Draco or brushing him off."

"That's sweet," Harry told her. "But there's really no need."

"So you don't _care_ why he's randomly giving you all of these detentions?" Daphne demanded, stunned.

Harry shook his head. "Not so much that. I just happen to already know the reason."

Daphne's eyes were wide. "You do?"

Harry nodded. "I'm pretty sure, yes."

"Then tell me!" Daphne exclaimed, a little loudly.

Snape shot her a look but because she was a Slytherin and not Harry he didn't say anything.

"Well, you know how Snape and my mother used to be close friends?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Daphne laughed. "I'm pretty sure that there are Muggles who have heard this by now."

"Well, even if they stopped being friends it seems to me that he still wouldn't actually want her to be dead and, well, she is," Harry said, somewhat losing the flow of that sentence.

"Intriguing," Daphne said sarcastically.

"Since I'm alive and she's not and I'm all that's left of her besides her Muggle sister and Muggle nephew, I'm the best connection to Lily still in the world," Harry explained. "Now, some might say that he doesn't like me-"

"Like anyone who has actually seen the two of you in the same room," Daphne interrupted.

"But even so, I lived when my mother did not and she might have even given her life to save mine," Harry told her. That revelation was coming out in Gilderoy's book (with the proper framing to still make Harry seem heroic) and so he didn't want to spoil it. "As such, I don't think he appreciates that I would so Gryffindorly throw it all away to go after You-Know-Who as a first year."

"I don't know," Daphne said thoughtfully. "I think a first year You-Know-Who might not be all that tough. Maybe we couldn't take him but we could get one of the upper-classmen."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know that I meant. But I think you and me could totally take first-year You-Know-Who."

"But would we?" Daphne asked. "We are Slytherins."

"_First year_ You-Know-Who," Harry reiterated.

Daphne nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I suppose that you do have a point there…"

"So anyway he keeps giving me detentions because he doesn't actually want to have to tell me that he doesn't want me to die because he knows that I would absolutely tell the world and then they'd get even more convinced that I'm his favorite student," Harry concluded.

Daphne remained. "Even with all these detentions?"

Harry grinned. "Did I tell you about all the fun and exciting favorite student things he lets me do during 'detentions'?"

Review Please!


	34. Return to Normal

Chapter Thirty-Four: Return to Normal

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry was just leaving class when he was quiet unexpectedly held up.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry groaned.

Draco patted him on the back semi-sympathetically and smirked at him before promptly hurrying away.

"I hate you," Harry called after him.

"If you wanted loyalty, you should have gone to Hufflepuff," Draco said over his shoulder unrepentantly.

Well, that was true enough. But if he had been in Hufflepuff then not only would he have never been able to live it down but he'd have to deal with this little nuisance on a far more regular basis so it really wasn't even worth considering. Although that didn't mean he couldn't try to freak Draco out by threatening to defect or something.

"Yes, Zacharias?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"Oh, so you _do_ remember my name, do you?" Zacharias asked rhetorically.

"Was I supposed to have forgotten?" Harry asked, frowning. He honestly hadn't been paying enough attention to Zacharias to know whether or not he was supposed to have forgotten him or whatever else was going on in the Hufflepuff's imagined rivalry with him.

Zacharias actually stomped his foot. "No you were not supposed to have forgotten!"

"Okay…" Harry said slowly. "So I wasn't supposed to forget about you and I did not actually forget about you. What seems to be the problem here?"

"When was the last time you even spoke to me?" Zacharias demanded.

Harry thought back. Zacharias' visits had been annoyingly frequent (well…any at all would have been annoying but it was reasonably frequent) at the beginning of the year but slowly it had tapered off as he had adjusted.

"Maybe October?" he guessed.

"_Maybe_ October?" Zacharias repeated, looking to the sky. "Do you see what I have to put up with?"

"Who are you talking to?" Harry wondered. "Is it me? Because I don't really-"

"Oh, never mind," Zacharias huffed. "Why are you ignoring me?"

"It's been awhile so I'm not sure," Harry began. "But didn't we already have the talk about how I can't possibly be ignoring you while I'm talking to you?"

"Yes, we did," Zacharias said, not looking at all appeased. "But you haven't sought me out in _ages_!"

"I have _never_ sought you out," Harry pointed out.

"And that's another thing!" Zacharias ranted. "As your rival, I shouldn't always be the one who has to do the seeking out. That doesn't really put us on equal footing, does it? It makes it seem like you have better things to do while I don't."

"Well, when you put it that way-" Harry started to say.

"And it's really not fair!" Zacharias interrupted. "Why do you _never_ seek me out? Do you enjoy making me do all the work?"

"I really don't," Harry replied. "Why would I seek you out? All you ever do is yell at me that I'm not paying enough attention to you!"

"Well you're not," Zacharias said flatly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I talk to you whenever you're around."

"It's not enough," Zacharias insisted.

Harry sighed. "Fine, I'll play along. Just what do you want from me that I'm not giving you?"

"I want…" Zacharias trailed off, looking a little dreamy. "I want someone who glares at me when he happens to meet my eyes. I want someone who calls me by my last name. I want someone who might hex me in the hallway just because or who I could hex with people thinking I'm an ass. I want someone to laugh at all of my failures and try to downplay my victories so that I might do the same to them. I want someone whose friends I can hate and who will hate all of my friends. I want someone that no one but Snape would think of partnering me with for a project because it will just cause problems. I was a _rival_. Is that really so much to ask?"

Harry felt awkward. It was clear that this meant a great deal to Zacharias but personally he couldn't understand why and that list sounded like hell to him. That was the last thing he wanted in his life, a silly antagonistic distraction like that.

"I-I guess not," Harry said slowly. "But only if the other party wants that, too, and I'd really hoped you would have understood by now, _Zacharias_, that that's not what I want."

"Of course not," Zacharias scoffed. "You'd rather be having a rivalry with effing _Voldemort_."

Harry started for multiple reasons. The idea that he had or sought out a 'rivalry' with Voldemort was beyond ridiculous. Voldemort killed people. A lot. And most of them didn't seem to be for much of a reason at all. Most people, he felt, would (or at least _should_) see him as more Voldemort's target than anything else even if he had survived and Voldemort had clearly not done well after that encounter. It wasn't like Harry had any reason to think that Voldemort was really interested in him, either, from the word or so that he had managed to get out before they'd Obliviated him.

And even if he and Voldemort _did_ have some sort of relationship, the fact that it was, well, _Voldemort_ meant that it should probably be called 'arch enemies' or something instead of school rivals.

And did he really saying 'effing'? What did that even _mean_?

"Being his rival would certainly be more convenient," Harry agreed. "Seeing as how he's dead. But before he died, no way."

Zacharias just gave him a disgusted look.

"And hey," Harry said as a thought occurred to him. "You actually said You-Know-Who's name!" Harry, unlike most people, wasn't actually _afraid_ of the name but it just seemed rude to upset people so casually for no real reason. Not that Zacharias evidently had any problem with that.

Zacharias's face was a strange mixture of pride and trepidation. "I didn't use to," he admitted. "But since I want to be your rival and you'd rather be Voldemort's rival, I figured that it was my obligation to try and belittle him where I could. Besides, he _is_ dead."

Or close enough anyway.

"And the Quibbler said his name was 'Tom Riddle' and he was only a half-blood or something, anyway, and so I'm honor-bound to believe this," Zacharias declared.

The Quibbler was right about a whole lot more than most people gave them credit for. It comforted him sometimes to think that if they ever did figure out and decide to print the truth about Gilderoy (chances were they'd be the first to figure it out) then it would practically guarantee that no one would _ever_ believe them.

Harry surprised Zacharias by stepping closer to him and patting him on the shoulder.

"So," he said, "good talk. Let's do this again in three months."

Or not, hopefully, but this _was_ Zacharias he was talking about so he should probably be realistic.

* * *

After two days of non-stop interviews, Dumbledore had settled on Charity Burbage as the new Muggle Studies professor.

Remembering the class of Quirrell's he had sat in on (and wondering if perhaps he shouldn't have suspected that something was up even if he would have had no intention of acting on it), Gilderoy decided to attend one of hers a few weeks into the term after he felt she would have had time to adjust to teaching.

Burbage opened up the lesson by asking the class why it was important to learn about muggles. She got a variety of answers (didn't want to look stupid mispronouncing 'electricity' like some, didn't want to look stupid not understanding muggle money when in muggle Britain, didn't want to look stupid while in muggle Britain, it was thought to be an easy O, didn't want to take another class, wanted to laugh at how backwards muggles were, ect).

Next, she set a vase on her desk and cast a shield charm on it. She stood to the side of the desk so everyone could see as she cast several spells on it and the shield withstood them all. Then she took out what, from the reactions, apparently only Gilderoy himself recognized as a gun and shot six rounds into the vase in quick succession, utterly demolishing it.

It seemed like it _should_ be illegal to bring a gun to class and shoot something with it but considering that guns were muggle contraptions it was entirely possible – maybe even probable – that it wasn't.

There was a stunned silence, broken only when Gilderoy murmured, "Nice shot."

Burbage had smiled and thanked him. She told the class that muggles did not have magic but that was no reason to assume that they were helpless. She did not have to explain what a gun was as Quirrell's scare tactics ensured that he had already covered that but she did go into a little detail about different kinds of guns (machine guns especially seemed to disturb the class). She explained that guns could be difficult to obtain through legal means but reminded them of how often the wizarding world had illegal contraband popping up.

"That's not to say that you should live in fear of muggles," Burbage insisted. "Just recognize that just because you have a wand and they do not doesn't mean that you can act with impunity. But of course, it shouldn't be the threat of getting shot that stops you from muggle baiting and treating these people with basic human dignity."

Andrew Kirke raised his hand. "It's just so hard to take them seriously and to really believe that, under the right circumstances, they could kill you when they're so backwards."

Burbage laughed. "Muggles? Backwards? Really?"

The class nodded uncertainly.

"Life in the wizarding world is pretty convenient, yes?" Burbage asked rhetorically. "If you want to go somewhere, you can generally be there in a matter of moments. If you want to cook a meal or do chores it's just a wave of a wand. If you want to change the world around you then it takes little more than a thought and the right words and it's done. Muggles can't do any of that."

"And that _doesn't_ make them backwards?" Kirke asked, confused.

"You may not have noticed this as much before you came to Hogwarts but every summer you must notice the difference," Burbage realized. "While you're here at school you can do magic and, assuming you know the spells and have the desire to, pretty much anything you want. When you go home for the summer, you're reduced to doing things without magic. How much more complicated does that make your lives?"

The class started talking over each other telling Burbage about the woes of being underage.

Eventually, Burbage held up her hands for silence. "How many of you live in a non-magical household?"

No hand went up.

"Try and imagine that for a moment," Burbage instructed. "Even if you cannot do magic personally then you can ask someone else to help you or you can still use self-cleaning dishes or whatever other magical artifacts are around the house. In fact, because of the nature of the Trace – not that you heard this from me – as long as you do magic in the residence of an adult wizard no one has any way of being able to tell that you're underage."

Burbage looked remarkably unconcerned about the way the Weasley twins looked like they had just received a second Christmas. But then, it was hardly her problem so why _should_ she care? Gilderoy certainly wouldn't have.

"And summer is just for a couple of weeks," Burbage continued. "Can you try and imagine that you live in a house with no magical artifacts and no one to help you with any magic you need to do not just for a few months but _forever_?"

The class looked uneasily at each other.

"_That_ is what muggles are faced with every day of their lives and that inconvenience is something that they just refuse to accept," Burbage told them. "It's hard for witches and wizards to appreciate muggle technology when there are spells that make things work about as well and when the presence of a lot of magic makes their technology stop working. Still, they were tired of having to walk and ride horses everywhere and so they invented cars. They were sick of having to mail a letter – and not even using owls! – and so they invented phones for instant communication. And because of how convenient our own lives already are, we haven't seen much of a need for technological improvements of our own. The wizarding wireless? Adapted from the muggle wireless. Magical indoor plumbing? The Muggles had it first. They are so much a part of our lives and so much stronger than I think any of us would ever want to have to be and _that_ is why we need to learn all about them." She smiled. "And, of course, to avoid looking stupid."

The class looked a lot more interested in the subject matter than they had when Gilderoy had first walked in.

* * *

Harry probably wouldn't have even noticed that it was approaching Valentine's Day if the upperclassmen weren't all freaking out about it.

Well, he did remember Gilderoy mentioning something about organizing a Valentine's Day delivery system where they could send messages (written or delivered by dwarves), flowers, or chocolate for a small fee. Of course things had to be affordable for the students and so the fee was mostly just to cover the expenses and increase his reputation. Still, he had only heard about that in passing.

"I really don't get it," Harry complained one day to one of the upperclassmen, Terrence Higgs.

Terrence shuddered. "Trust me, you don't want to. Although by the time you get to third or fourth year – and definitely fifth – you won't have a choice."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Is this one of those things where you insist that since I can't understand, you're not going to explain it to me?"

"I could," Terrence said thoughtfully, considering it, "but I'd rather spread the joy."

Harry threw open his arms. "Spread away then."

"None of the guys I've talked to really care about Valentine's Day," Terrence explained. He frowned. "Or, well, at least they don't admit it. Because, seriously, what kind of guy likes Valentine's Day?"

"Then why is everyone getting so stressed out about it?" Harry wondered.

"Because the _girls_ like Valentine's Day," Terrence explained. "Although 'like' is probably too mild of a word."

"All of them?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Well, not _all_ of them," Terrence conceded. "But how are you supposed to know if they like it or not until your first Valentine's Day together? Asking her ex? That would go over well."

"You could ask her," Harry pointed out.

Terrence laughed. "Right. Most girls say that they don't want to make a big deal about Valentine's Day."

"And you can't listen to them because…?" Harry inquired, growing more confused about this conversation by the minute.

"It's like when people insist that they don't want anything for their birthday and then if you listen you're the only gift-less person," Terrence explained. "The girls who don't care are fine with nothing big but the girls that do are _furious_."

"That doesn't seem very fair," Harry protested.

Terrence barked out another laugh. "And _that_ is why everyone is freaking out. You have to think about the consequences of guessing wrong, you know. If you think that the girl will care and don't then you put a lot of effort into something that won't really matter to her but she should at least appreciate that effort. If you don't do something and she thinks that you should have…well the consequences for that tend to be a lot worse."

"What do the girls have to do on Valentine's Day?" Harry wondered.

"Be dazzled," Terrence said, shrugging.

"Why?" Harry wondered.

"Because boys don't really care about Valentine's Day," Terrence reminded him. "And some of the girls who aren't with anyone expect heartfelt declarations of love – or at least to be asked out – by guys that they think might like them on Valentine's Day. It's just a lot of pressure no matter what you do. And you can't just do _anything_. It has to be spectacular."

"Apparently," Harry murmured, shaking his head.

"Some girls are embarrassed by public gestures but others demand them. And if it's public and too mushy then your friends might make fun of you and if it doesn't go over well then that's embarrassing," Terrence continued. "Plus then it turns into a competition. The girl will compare what her boyfriend did to what her friends' boyfriends' did. If yours was the best then you look even better by comparison but there can really only be _one_ best so everyone else has to deal with the subtle undercurrent of 'X's boyfriend got her this. If you _really_ loved me then…'"

"You realize that you're pretty much convincing me to never get a girlfriend ever, right?" Harry asked, horrified.

Terrence smirked knowingly at him. "Oh, wait a few years. You'll feel differently then, I guarantee it. And if not…Well, I'm actually not sure how two boys would handle Valentine's Day but if you should find out then make sure to owl me."

February 14th was a Friday this year. Maybe he could just be 'sick' and spend the whole day in bed.

Review Please!


	35. The Basilisk at Hogwarts

Chapter Thirty-Five: The Basilisk at Hogwarts

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

It was around mid-March when anything happened. Harry hadn't been there but from what he understood, Fred and George Weasley had been found in some girl's bathroom that nobody used because Moaning Myrtle was always somehow flooding it (despite not being able to really interact with the world at large) and whining. They had been found with a frozen Moaning Myrtle who, being a ghost, everyone was quite unsurprised to learn wasn't actually dead.

McGonagall had given them a detention for being in the girl's bathroom and another one for possibly writing 'THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE' on the walls with chicken blood.

"Even if you didn't do it," McGonagall had reasoned when the twins had protested, "God only knows what you deserve a detention for that you _haven't_ been caught doing."

Fred and George had admitted that she might have had a point and just accepted the extra detention. Notably, they wouldn't actually say what they had been doing there in the first place.

Harry hadn't been there but he had heard all about it from the Weasleys afterwards.

"There was this _thing_," Fred (Harry thought it was Fred, at least) had said. "We had hidden when we heard someone else coming in. We hadn't expected to see anyone in the bathroom because _no one_ used that bathroom but we didn't want to get caught so we stood locked the door to one of the stalls and stood on the toilet."

"Myrtle said it was a boy so we almost came out since he wasn't supposed to be there either but then there'd be a witness-I mean, but then we'd have to admit we were hiding in a stall so we didn't. Myrtle went out to go yell at him for coming into her bathroom like she did with us and we heard this weird hissing," George continued.

"Then there was this…I don't know, we saw it under the stall. A giant snake, I think. I guess it must have attacked her somehow but I really don't know how. She's a _ghost_, after all," Fred concluded.

As it turned out, Theodore was the only student in school who knew more about the Chamber of Secrets than it was before their father's time, likely owing to the fact that his father was in his sixties and so was at Hogwarts at the time. Some of the other students (especially the older ones) had similarly old parents but they had evidently either not heard the story or didn't want to make themselves look suspicious by revealing that they had heard the story.

Theodore obligingly told everyone who asked him about it (which was practically everyone because even if they could have heard about it from one of their friends who had already asked, they apparently preferred to get it from the most direct source). He seemed a little disappointed that everyone was so ready to believe him, however, which Harry didn't understand him at all.

"It's like this," Theodore had explained when Harry had asked. "Fifty years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was open for the first time since Slytherin sealed his monster inside of it and this was the first indication that anyone had that it wasn't just a legend used to scare Muggleborns. Muggleborns were the target but they were only petrified and not killed. Eventually, a half-blood girl named Myrtle – yes, _that_ Myrtle – was killed in the bathroom she still haunts and the governors threatened to close down the school. All those attacks were certainly inconvenient, yes, but once someone died it started getting _serious_. So that's when a prefect, Tom Riddle, accused Hagrid of having the monster that attacked those people although Hagrid claims he just had an Acromantula and that that Acromantula is still living in the forest and has had lots of baby Acromantula and so we really should be careful. The creature fled and the Ministry was trying to minimize the scandal so they promptly expelled Hagrid because as a half-giant with no family he was an easy target. Fortunately for them, the attacks stopped after the death. Fortunately for Hagrid, too, since he stayed on as a gamekeeper and so probably would have been carted off to Azkaban or something if the attacks had continued. Riddle went on to get a trophy for blaming Hagrid for the attack and then became Head Boy and vanished off the face of the Earth a few years later."

Rita Skeeter wrote an article about the attack entitled "Hogwarts: How Safe Your Children Aren't" which started a bit of a panic, especially since she had managed to get a pretty descriptive interview with the Weasley twins. What's more, she proved that while she often went in for the sensational she was perfectly capable of doing her research (or at least having someone do it for her) when it counted and she published her follow-up: "The Basilisk at Hogwarts."

Since everyone knew that Hagrid didn't like snakes, it would seem that he wasn't going to be blamed for the renewed attacks. He had taken to clipping out Rita Skeeter's articles and calling her a great woman for ensuring that this time he couldn't be made a scapegoat. Harry marveled at how just happening to be on the right side could change people's perceptions because he knew that Hagrid hadn't thought much of Rita before any of this had started.

He was sure that Dumbledore had to deal with a lot of concerned parents and an upset board of governors, especially because he knew that Lucius Malfoy was on the board of governors and he was quite vocal in the press.

"I don't care who that thing might _target_," he had been quoted, "it's a _basilisk_ in the same school as my _son_. Why aren't precautionary measures being taken?"

So far no one had withdrawn from the school but people were starting to threaten to.

Then when little Sally-Anne Perks was petrified and Rita Skeeter reported "Hogwarts Student To Be Left Petrified Until June" she terrified everyone at the thought that their own children might be left petrified for two or three months. Dumbledore tried to explain that they couldn't _force_ the Mandrakes they were growing to be ready any faster but that did not appease anyone. The parents of the upperclassmen were especially upset given what missing a few months of school could do to their exam scores.

That was when Gilderoy had gallantly – and very popularly – swooped in and personally bought and donated two dozen doses of Mandrake Potion Hogwarts. It was too expensive for Hogwarts to justify buying it when they could just make it but it also saw a surge in book sales and so that was actually a net gain for Gilderoy. And the best part was that it allowed him to legitimately play the hero with very little work and no danger whatsoever.

The only precaution that could really be taken when they had no idea how to find the basilisk was to insist that students use mirrors to check behind every corner and teachers had to accompany students between classes. It was _extremely _annoying but then Harry supposed it might save him in the future. He hadn't been petrified yet and he wasn't a Muggleborn so his chances of having been killed without these new safety precautions seemed rather low.

To date, seven students had still managed to get petrified but they were all up and about again. Myrtle, by silent agreement, had been left petrified until the Mandrake Potions would be ready. The official reasoning was that it was because they did not want to use up one of the precious Mandrake Potion doses that Gilderoy had provided but it was likely just that they were all enjoying a break from her.

And Harry had never seen McGonagall so happy as the day that Peeves had gotten petrified although the Weasley twins had been near tears.

Hermione was mostly impressed at Rita's investigative journalism and how she had managed to figure out that there was a basilisk in the school. It was a good thing, too, because focusing on that was all that would get her to stop railing against what kind of a school would let an actual bloodthirsty monster inhabit it. His friends from the other houses, especially the Muggleborns, were all various degrees of freaked out and everyone tried to guess who the heir of Slytherin was.

What was probably the most surprising was how his Slytherin friends were taking the news.

"This is awful," Blaise complained.

"It's not really affecting us all that much," Harry pointed out.

"For now, yes," Blaise agreed. "For now. Although given that it's a _basilisk_, who's to say that it will continue to not attack us?"

"I agree," Draco said. "I don't like having to worry about getting petrified every time I go anywhere. And with basilisks, just looking directly at their eyes will automatically kill you!"

Pansy sighed and shook her head. "If only we could be _sure_ that it would just go after who it's supposed to and leave all of us alone."

Harry was stunned. "What do you mean? I mean, I get that since none of us are Muggleborns it would mean that we'd be safe but that sounds almost like…"

"Almost like they don't care that Muggleborns are getting attacked?" Daphne supplied. "Well, that might be – just maybe – because they don't actually care that they're being attacked."

"Your muggle-loving ways are giving me a headache," Draco complained, shooing her away. "Go over to Gryffindor or something."

"Muggleborns are not the same as muggles," Daphne told him.

"Sure they are," Blaise said. "They're just muggles with magic."

"Hence making them _not muggles,_" Daphne said dryly. "Since muggles are just people without magic. And I hardly think I'm being an extremist by preferring that people _not_ get attacked by a basilisk, whether it does any lasting damage or not."

"It's not like we literally want anyone we know to _die_," Theodore protested. "It's just, well…"

"_Seriously_?" Harry demanded, finally finding his voice. "Seriously? You think it's just fine for people to be attacked because of who their parents are?"

"That sounds like a loaded question," Draco said suspiciously.

"I cannot believe you!" Harry shouted.

"I don't understand what the problem is," Pansy said, confused. "So we don't like Muggleborns. We've never really liked them."

"They're being _attacked_," Harry stressed. "They could _die_."

"I find the fact that you're explaining that to us again a little insulting," Blaise told him.

"What is _wrong_ with you people?" Harry demanded.

Draco shrugged. "I don't really think anything is."

"You're not going to get through to them," Daphne told him. "They're not going to understand your argument any more than you understand theirs. It's just too fundamental of a difference."

"But I'm _right_," Harry protested.

Pansy snorted. "Right, because that's not arrogant at all."

"Look, Harry, we're not trying to say that we _would_ attack any of these people," Theodore assured him, trying to make peace. "We just don't really mind that they _are_ being attacked. But it's still causing problems for us."

"Do tell me how other people getting attacked – which apparently does not bother you in the slightest – is causing problems for _you_," Harry said sarcastically.

"We don't want anyone thinking that _we're_ doing it," Blaise explained.

"Why not?" Harry challenged. "If it's really not a problem."

"Well, this is the kind of thing that people get sent to Azkaban for," Blaise pointed out. "And we really don't want people to think that we've evil."

"Then maybe you should stop thinking that it's perfectly fine for people to be attacked because of their parents!" Harry suggested loudly.

"Well we're certainly not going to tell the world," Draco said, like _Harry_ was the one being difficult. "That would just be incredibly short-sighted."

Daphne shot him a sympathetic smile as he stormed off.

* * *

"I just don't understand how I could miss the fact that several of my friends were extremely racist for more than half a year!" Harry exploded.

"Well, they are in Slytherin," Gilderoy pointed out, smiling as he read Rita's latest glowing piece on him.

Harry glared at him. "So what? _I'm _in Slytherin. _Daphne_ is in Slytherin. Anyone else in my house who doesn't happen to be racist is in Slytherin. Assuming that just because they're in Slytherin means they're racist is just as prejudiced as they are."

"But less likely to lead to an attack," Gilderoy couldn't help but reply.

"You're not helping," Harry sulked.

Gilderoy sighed and looked up. "I'm sorry, Harry. Of course I'm not saying that all Slytherins are racists. It's just that you're far more likely to find the more racist types in Slytherin although casually racist people who might mean well but treat muggles like they're some exotic species of animals while refusing to learn anything about them can be found wherever you go. You know I'm Muggleborn."

"Nobody else does," Harry replied.

Gilderoy nodded. "And I would like to keep it that way, especially while we have a basilisk on the loose who is attacking Muggleborns."

"Are you ashamed of being a Muggleborn or something?" Harry asked curiously.

Gilderoy shook his head. "Honestly, Harry, blood status doesn't mean a thing to me. My life would just be more difficult if people knew."

"It shouldn't be," Harry said stubbornly.

"I'll agree with you there but it would be. And I have no intention of further complicating my life by becoming an activist as I know that I would be forced to be as an extremely successful Muggleborn wizard," Gilderoy explained.

Harry said nothing but looked disappointed.

Gilderoy sighed again. "You're judging me."

Harry looked startled. "N-no, I-"

"Everything you know about me and _this_ is what you're choosing to judge me about," Gilderoy marveled. "I never thought I'd see the day…"

"It's just…I…" Harry trailed off, looking miserable.

"You think I'm being selfish," Gilderoy supplied. "And you're probably right. The selfless thing to do would be to let myself be turned into a poster boy for Muggleborns and champion their rights. But then, the selfless thing to do would also be to stop taking credit for things I have not done and so I wouldn't be much help on that front. And at any rate, who ever said that I had a problem with being selfish? Selfishness is so unfairly maligned sometimes.

It was like Daphne said. Sometimes when the difference was so fundamental, you never could understand the other person's point or expect for them to understand yours.

"What am I supposed to do about my friends?" Harry asked instead.

Gilderoy shrugged. "I don't see that there's anything you can do. You have three choices, I suppose. You can stop being friends with them over this, you can spend the rest of your association futilely trying to convince them that they're wrong, or you can accept that at least they're not acting on what they believe and try to move past this."

Harry bit his lip and looked down. He didn't know if he had the energy to argue against people who simply could not hear him forever and he couldn't very well just stop being friends with his friends. That only left one option and that made him feel like a coward.

"How could I have missed this for so long?" Harry wondered aloud.

Gilderoy shrugged. "I'm sure I don't know but they probably made an effort not to say things like that in front of you since you don't share their opinions. It's very thoughtful and quite smart because of how useful you're going to be in the future to not upset you unnecessarily."

Harry sighed. "I guess so. I just hope they go back to not talking about it so I can ignore the situation."

"I think that you should offer your services to the Ministry," Gilderoy said abruptly.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"They've managed to pinpoint the location of the Chamber as being in Myrtle's bathroom and they even think that the opening is under the sink that never works but that has the snake images," Gilderoy elaborated. "They just can't get in because they can't speak Pareseltongue. If you get them in so that they can kill the basilisk then you'll be a hero. And you wouldn't even have to go down there seeing as how I can't imagine you would have to prove yourself a proper heir of Slytherin more than once. That would just be inefficient and inconveniencing."

"But I thought you said that I shouldn't tell people about being a Parselmouth because they'd probably think I was evil or something," Harry said, confused.

Gilderoy nodded. "I did say that. But this wouldn't be randomly announcing it or having people discover it when you freak them out by communicating with a snake right in front of them. This would be doing your duty and being a hero, saving everyone who is at Hogwarts now or might ever go to Hogwarts from a basilisk when no one else could. Just let the Prophet break the story the way you want it to. Rita's good at that."

Review Please!


	36. Waiting for Draco

Chapter Thirty-Six: Waiting for Draco

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

In mid-April, Harry was on the front page of the Daily Prophet yet again. "Harry Potter Saves Hogwarts" wasn't bad as far as an article reporting that you were a Parselmouth went. Harry wasn't really sure that he had saved much of anything, really. All he had done was hiss 'open' at a bathroom sink and then gone back to class. That the Aurors had managed to trap and kill the creature was very nice, of course, but really nothing to do with him.

Not, of course, that he was actually allowed to tell people that what he did wasn't important although at least he managed to remind people how important the Weasley twins and their identification of the creature as a giant snake was.

"You know," Blaise said thoughtfully, "you might be a big hero again but we haven't really gotten over the fact that you're still a big hero for stopping the dark lord."

"You really should have spaced your heroics out more," Daphne agreed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "And how was I supposed to do that when You-Know-Who was in need of stopping in January and then three months later a basilisk was in need of killing? I don't exactly plan these things out."

"Clearly," Pansy sniffed.

"You should complain," Theodore advised.

Harry laughed. "To _who_?"

"The Daily Prophet would probably listen and sympathize," Daphne suggested.

"You had just better be careful," Blaise told him. "Otherwise we're kicking you out and then you'll have to go and hang out with the rest of the Gryffindors."

Harry gasped dramatically. "Take that back!"

Blaise was unrepentant. "I would if I could, Harry, but the truth is that you've been acting an awful lot like a Gryffindor for quite some time now."

"Oh, is it time for the intervention?" Theodore asked brightly.

"Wait, _intervention_?" Harry demanded, unable to believe that they were thinking of throwing an intervention for him.

"We can't do that!" Pansy exclaimed. "Draco's not here yet!" She looked expectantly towards the door.

"What are you doing?" Blaise asked her.

"I'm waiting for Draco," Pansy announced.

"Are you going to stare at the door until he shows up? Because that might be awhile," Daphne told her.

"In stories, whenever someone mentions that they're waiting for someone, they always show up," Pansy explained.

"Well, not always," Harry argued. "I really hope Draco has more of a sense of punctuality than Godot."

"Hey, Harry, can you give me a hand with my intervention speech?" Theodore asked him. "I'm really not sure that this part sounds right and I think I might have just made up parts of your childhood at one point and so if you could fact-check it then that would be great."

"Theodore!" Daphne exclaimed, half-laughing. "You can't get the subject of you intervention speech to help you come up with your intervention speech!"

"Why not?" Theodore asked blankly. "Wouldn't it be, I don't know, getting him involved with the process or something? It might actually make this more effective."

"If Harry doesn't feel that he needs an intervention then how would he be able to write an effective intervention speech for himself?" Daphne asked practically.

"First of all, it's _co-write_," Theodore said clearly. "And I obviously have much more faith in my friend Harry than you do."

Before Daphne could say anything else, the door to the Common Room swung open and Draco shakily stepped inside, covered in chicken feathers and blood.

"Ha!" Pansy crowed when she saw him. "I knew it! Eat that, Godot!"

"Actually, that would be Beckett," Harry corrected.

"Sam Beckett?" Daphne asked. "I think I saw that show."

"No, it wasn't a show, he was a playwright," Harry corrected.

"No, I'm pretty sure I saw that one, too," Theodore disagreed. "It was something about a leap."

Daphne snapped her fingers. "Yes, a quantum leap!"

"Why were you even watching muggle television in the first place?" Blaise wondered, frowning. "I mean, I get Daphne but-"

"I am _not_ obsessed with muggles!" Daphne exclaimed.

Pansy stared at her. "Nobody said you were, Daphne. But you're getting a little defensive."

"People _always_ say that. Or at least Draco does. And everyone always thinks it anyway," Daphne retorted.

"Now you seem to be getting a little paranoid," Pansy noted, scooting her chair away from her.

"Sometimes elderly fathers aren't very interesting and summer can get very long," Theodore answered Blaise's question. "I can't spend all of my time at other people's houses and not all of us get to pass the time wondering when and how our stepfather is going to die."

"That is _not_ fun!" Blaise objected.

"I never said that it was, just that it passed the time," Theodore informed him. "Or are you denying that?"

"Well…no," Blaise conceded.

"Isn't it a little strange to hate muggles and yet to have their technology in your house?" Harry inquired.

Theodore shrugged. "I don't see why it would be."

"You still didn't tell me what Sam Beckett and Godot have to do with each other," Pansy reminded Harry.

He nodded. "Oh, right. Well Samuel Beckett was a playwright who wrote a play-"

"Shocking," Blaise muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Called 'Waiting for Godot,'" Harry continued, ignoring the interruption.

"What happens in it?" Pansy asked.

Harry shrugged. "Um…these two guys wait around for someone named Godot. They talk about killing themselves at one point due to boredom but they're too lazy to actually do it."

"Well, what about when Godot gets there?" Pansy pressed.

"He never does," Harry replies. "Well, at least not at the end of the play. Maybe he never does."

"Wouldn't it be something if he shows up the minute the play is over?" Daphne asked rhetorically.

"Don't be absurd, Daphne, he can't show up once the play is over!" Theodore cried out. "He's fictional, remember?"

"That _would_ explain why I called it a play," Daphne deadpanned.

"If he never shows up then what in the world is the point?" Pansy demanded.

"Guys," Draco (evidently tired of standing around covered in blood and chicken feathers and waiting for his friends to notice him) said, waving his hands and trying to catch their attention.

"I don't know!" Harry cried out, throwing his hands up in the air. "Ask an English teacher!"

"Why would I need an English teacher when English is my native tongue?" Pansy asked, confused. "And why would an English teacher be an expert on weird muggle plays that don't make sense?"

Harry shook his head. "I give up."

"But seriously, you should watch it sometime," Theodore was telling Blaise. "You could come over and I'd be less bored and you'd stop having to obsess about your soon-to-be-dead stepfather."

"I do _not _ob-" Blaise cut himself off. "Watch what? Waiting for Godot?"

"No, Quantum Leap. Do try to keep up," Theodore said disdainfully.

"GUYS!" Draco shouted.

They all looked over at him.

"What?" Pansy asked, a little annoyed.

"I've been standing here for the last several minutes and you've just completely been ignoring me," Draco told them.

"We're sorry if you're feeling neglected, Draco, but we were having our own conversation," Harry said gently. "You were free to jump in at any point."

"Can you guys _please_ try to focus?" Draco begged them.

"But we _are_ focusing on you, Draco," Daphne said, puzzled.

"That's now what I meant," Draco said wearily.

"Then maybe you should elaborate," Pansy suggested.

"Guys, look at me," Draco instructed.

They did.

"Do you notice anything…odd about me?" he asked slowly.

"Well, aside from the fact that your robes are covered with blood and chicken feathers, not really," Theodore said after eyeing him critically.

"'Aside from'-"Draco broke off, scoffing. "Let's not put any of that aside, okay? That's the part I wanted you to notice!"

"It's hard to miss," Daphne admitted.

"We were just trying to be open-minded and not judge you for your admittedly odd fashion choices," Harry claimed.

"Well judge away!" Draco ordered. "This isn't my new 'fashion choice'!"

"Then why are you wearing it?" Pansy asked, confused.

Draco threw his hands up in the air. "That! Is! Exactly! The! Question!"

"There's really no need to be so dramatic," Blaise complained.

"Yes there is!" Draco argued. "A bunch of roosters have been killed and this is the, what, third time I've woken up like this. At first I thought I could just ignore it or whatever but sooner or later that gets kind of ridiculous."

"I'd say that it got ridiculous the first time that you woke up like that and decided not to do anything about it," Harry said frankly.

"Is this your way of confessing that you've been murdering the chickens, Draco?" Daphne asked reprovingly. "Because I think that that made some Hufflepuffs cry."

"First, if that's true about the Hufflepuffs then _good_," Draco said darkly. "And as to whether I'm confessing…I…No…Well, maybe. Sort of?"

"How can you be sort of murdering them?" Pansy asked, confused. "You either are or you aren't. Unless you had an accomplice or are quibbling about whether or not it was really murdering them or not."

"Let's test that, shall we?" Theodore asked rhetorically. "Draco, did you kill any of the chickens…no, wait, it's been roosters, I think. Did you kill any of the roosters?"

"I…think that there is compelling evidence that I might have been," Draco admitted shakily.

Harry wished that Neville was there so he could ask Draco if he could stop being a Slytherin for five seconds and just give a firm answer. Since Harry was a Slytherin himself, he couldn't actually be the one to do that.

"Why?" Pansy asked, stunned.

"I suspect it's because that a rooster's crow kills a basilisk," Draco said slowly. 'He suspects'? Really?

"Draco, I know that we said that we didn't really mind what the basilisk was doing to the Muggleborns but I think actively helping the basilisk is going a bit far," Blaise said, eyeing Draco strangely. "And didn't we all agree that we didn't like going to school with a basilisk? Why would sabotaging any chance of getting rid of it seem like a good idea?"

"And why would you kill the roosters now?" Harry asked reasonably. "I mean, the basilisk's been dead for a few days now."

"Oh, _I_ know that," Draco assured them. "I just don't think that _he_ does."

Theodore decided to bite the bullet. "Draco…who are you talking about?"

"The man in the diary," Draco replied.

"Man in the…Draco, don't you think you should take a shower, clean up a bit? It might calm you down," Pansy urged. "Maybe even lie down. You can't be feeling well."

"No, I'm not and that's exactly why I can't stop and just take a break," Draco said firmly.

"Well, tell us what's going on then," Daphne prompted.

"Right after Harry did his big Gryffindor thing-" Draco started to say.

"Hey!" Harry protested.

Daphne shushed him. "Not now, Harry."

"He, Pansy, and I were in the library and found this blank diary belonging to Tom Riddle, that prefect who got Hagrid expelled," Draco said, nodding Theodore's way. "Pansy…_convinced_ me to take the book with me and I was using it to take notes at first in class but then it started writing back, telling me that it already knew all of this first-year material. It requested that if I absolutely must take notes then would I please be so good as to do sixth or seventh year material instead? I wrote back explaining that, as a first year, I really couldn't and it went on from there."

"Why didn't you tell anybody that you found a talking diary?" Harry asked. "You know the old adage about how you should never trust something unless you know where it keeps its brain."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, _Mother_. I'm not a child and I knew better than to trust it. And I didn't tell anybody for the same reason that any of you wouldn't have told anyone."

Harry, actually, would have taken the matter straight to Gilderoy but he understood now Draco's reasoning (even if he didn't agree). A Slytherin never gives up an advantage.

"But something went wrong?" Blaise prompted.

Draco eyed his ruined robes distastefully. "Obviously. I've had a few blackouts and I wouldn't have been that concerned except for what I looked like afterwards. And since I can't imagine anything that I've done that could cause this except writing in the diary…Well, I think I can safely blame that for all of this. I never wrote about the basilisk dying so it makes sense that he'd still go after the roosters."

"So you think that a prefect from fifty years ago was summoning the basilisk and attacking Muggleborns?" Harry asked skeptically.

"It would explain a lot," Theodore reasoned. "After all, it clearly wasn't Hagrid and I always thought that Riddle was just blaming him because he didn't want the school to shut. I can't blame him, really. I thought that the real culprit took advantage of Hagrid's expulsion and decided to pretend to be caught. I guess that's what Riddle did do. And it explains why he made sure to have a convenient scapegoat ready."

"I saw his memory of busting Hagrid," Draco confirmed. "And trust me, whatever that was was nothing like a basilisk. Although Riddle seemed to think that Hagrid was raising werewolf cubs under his bed."

Harry was horrified at the very prospect. "What? But…_werewolf_ cubs? But wouldn't that mean?"

"Riddle, whether this is true or not, claimed that Hagrid was raising children who turned into a werewolf once a month under his bed and no one got bitten or noticed anything," Draco confirmed.

"Draco, I think he was insulting your intelligence with that one," Daphne told him.

"So what do you guys think that I should do with this probably evil diary that's probably been causing all of this mess in the first place?" Draco inquired.

"I would definitely give it to Dumbledore," Harry said immediately.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Harry. 'Give it to Dumbledore.' Clearly I _can't_ give it to Dumbledore or else I would already be there instead of asking you people for advice when you'd rather talk about muggles than help me in my hour of need."

"Well, you can understand how we might have missed that you needed us," Theodore told him."You were being very subtle."

"Why can't you tell him?" Harry demanded. "It's what I would do."

"Yes and _you_ might get away with that because he's still not come to terms with the fact that you're a Slytherin," Draco replied. "But the minute _I_ come to him and tell him that an evil diary has been possessing me and making me kill roosters and petrify students, Moaning Myrtle, and Peeves then even _with_ the diary as proof, I'm still going to end up being asked some very difficult questions. Even if I don't get in trouble, my father will probably be called in and I'll look stupid and…I just won't, that's all."

"I understand that you don't want to look stupid, Draco," Harry said slowly. "But surely that's better than the alternative! The basilisk might be dead now and you might never write in that diary again but if it can really possess people just by writing in it then think of all the damage that it might do if someone else ever gets their hands on it!"

"I don't think that would really be my problem," Draco argued.

"It would be if the person who gets it is also a Hogwarts student," Daphne pointed out. "Or if Riddle's…spirit or whatever wants to hurt or kill you for breaking free and not doing what it wanted you to do."

"You guys are being too morbid," Draco complained. "Nothing like that could _possibly_ happen."

Theodore shot him a look.

"_Probably _happen," Draco amended.

"Would you seriously rather risk it than look stupid in front of Dumbledore?" Harry couldn't believe it.

Draco didn't even have to think about it. "Absolutely."

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed.

"What?" Draco asked unapologetically. "Either come up with a way to get this safely to Dumbledore without involving me or let's just forget the whole thing. If I don't write in it anymore – which I won't – then it will probably be okay."

Harry waited expectantly for somebody to point out what a terrible idea it was for Draco to just ignore this and hope that it went away on its own. No one said anything.

"You guys can't _possibly_ really believe that," he protested.

"I can," Theodore offered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't count."

"I'm considering being offended by that," Theodore informed him. "I mean, I'll probably decide against it but I felt like you should know that."

"Duly noted," Harry said dryly.

"It's not a matter of _really_ believing that," Pansy explained. "It's just, well, do we _not_ believe it enough to get into an argument over it?"

"You guys can be kind of terrible sometimes," Harry said bemusedly, shaking his head.

"Go back to Gryffindor," Blaise ordered.

It took them awhile to come to a decision but ultimately, they left the book on Dumbledore's chair right before breakfast started one morning.

Review Please!


	37. Loose Ends Tied Up

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Loose Ends Tied Up

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Albus had been growing increasingly convinced that Voldemort had created at least one Horcrux but he had never expected to be literally handed the proof one day. Or rather, find the proof placed on his seat at the staff dining table when he went down for breakfast.

He did not wish to draw attention to himself and make people think that anything was out of the ordinary and so, after seeing the damning 'Property of T.M. Riddle' tag on the innocuous-looking book, he had reluctantly slipped it into his robe and hurried through his breakfast as quickly as he dared.

He considered Minerva and Severus' schedules carefully and summoned them to his office during a period of time when they were both out of class.

"I believe," he informed them, "that I have found the method in which the Chamber of Secrets was being opened."

Minerva was puzzled. "I thought that it had to be someone who was quietly a Parselmouth."

"To get into the Chamber or to control the basilisk, Pareseltongue would be needed, yes," Albus agreed. He spared a quick glance at Severus. "I'm surprised that you do not suspect young Harry given that he is the only one at this school who openly speaks Pareseltongue."

For now, at any rate, he did. To the best of his knowledge, none of the Potters had ever possessed that rare gift and none of Lily's muggle relatives would have been capable of it. A certain Tom Riddle had, though, and had left his mark on Harry that night. The chances were good that he had been – probably inadvertently – made into a Horcrux. There was no way to ask Voldemort about it now with his memory loss even if Albus could have been certain that he was telling the truth.

Albus would need to research methods of removing a Horcrux from a living soul without killing the host but he knew that he had some time yet. He would not live forever but Voldemort was not going anywhere. It wouldn't do to attempt to remove a Horcrux that was not there and so in the future, Harry would need to be examined to prove the Horcrux was there.

Unfortunately, that would be virtually impossible to do without Harry noticing that something was going on so if he could not find a convincing enough pretext (perhaps examining the scar out of concern that there might be complications since it was a curse mark? His sources told him that Harry appeared to feel pain in his _scar_, of all places, and that was certainly cause for concern, wasn't it?) then he would have to actually tell Harry about the Horcruxes and the possibility that he was one.

He would probably have to do that anyway when it came time to remove it but learning that you were a Horcrux was bound to be less traumatic if you were minutes away from no longer being a Horcrux. He would prefer to wait until Harry was old enough to handle such knowledge but how old was old enough to learn such a thing? If he wasn't careful, he'd talk himself into waiting until the boy was seventeen and while a six year delay might not be _disastrous_, it certainly wouldn't be wise.

And then of course, there was the fact that nothing would stop an eleven-year-old boy from telling his guardian about any such procedures. Since Voldemort was contained, there was no _real_ reason to try to remove Harry from Lockhart's care. The only supporters of Voldemort who would be crazy enough to attack the one who had supposedly played a role in killing their lord and master – _twice_ now – were the ones already safely locked up in Azkaban.

And now that Lockhart had the 'death' (and legitimate incapacitation) of Voldemort to add to his already fearsome reputation, he was as safe a guardian for Harry as anyone. Some parts of Lockhart's books were pure fiction, of course, but as long as the creatures were still defeated as Voldemort had been defeated then did it _really _matter if he had used an Obliviate instead of whatever he was bound to tell the world happened when his book came out in a little while? As long as no one attempted to use his highly entertaining books as a literal how-to guide for defeating these creatures (and Lockhart did sensibly include such a warning in each of his books) then it was all fine.

He would have naturally preferred for Harry to stay with friends of his father or mother such as his godfather Sirius but Harry had made his feelings quite clear and there were no legal reasons to challenge Lockhart's guardianship. Harry was old enough that it all – mostly – had to be done legally now.

Albus blinked as he realized that those around him were talking.

"-and so while I have no doubt that Potter's arrogance and fame-seeking tendencies picked up from _both_ of his fathers would make him capable of such a thing, the sheer horror he felt towards his friends when he realized that they were not overly concerned with the fate of the Muggleborn victims makes me doubt very much that he would specifically target them," Severus concluded.

"Well said, Severus," Albus said warmly, hoping the other man wouldn't pick up on the fact that he hadn't heard most of what he had said.

"What do you believe happened if not a student or staff member who speaks Pareseltongue?" Minerva inquired.

Albus held the book up. "This diary belonged to one Tom Marvolo Riddle fifty years ago when the Chamber of Secret was last opened and poor Myrtle was killed."

Minerva and Severus, two of the few people who knew who Riddle had grown into, understood immediately.

"It contains instructions, then?" Minerva speculated. "Phonetic pronunciations for the Pareseltongue words?"

"It's enchanted," Albus said simply. "I believe that if you write to it, it will write back."

"How did you manage to get ahold of it? Who had it?" Severus demanded.

"That I do not know although we may yet find out," Albus admitted. "I suspect that whoever was using it either had not initially realized what was happening and once he or she did decided to get rid of it or else they were complicit at first but finally had enough. This was left on my chair this morning. Tom might be the only one who can tell us who was writing in him but I am doubtful that his words can be trusted."

"Would this student face punishment for their actions?" Minerva asked. "If the press got ahold of it…Normally I'd say that that wouldn't be an issue but since Lockhart got here, the press seem to be getting their hands on a lot of things."

Albus _had_ noticed that. "Now Minerva, we don't know that the two are connected. Before Professor Lockhart arrived there simply was not much occurring at Hogwarts that would interest a reporter like Rita Skeeter."

"If the student was a victim, and if this is the dark lord's diary then I have no doubt that they were at least partially a victim, then they do not deserve to face punishment for this," Severus opined.

"No, they don't," Albus agreed. "But I do think that this will have been a traumatizing experience and perhaps they are not unaffected by Voldemort's touch upon their soul, even now that the diary is no longer with them. They should seek treatment for that if we can find them."

"What shall we do in the meantime?" Severus asked. "You cannot possibly propose to write in the diary yourself after seeing what happened these past weeks."

"I would like to believe that, with such competent and trusted teachers watching me, I could resist a little better than someone seventeen or younger," Albus said, trying not to sound arrogant as he stated what he considered to be a truth. "It would only be a one-time thing to try and get information and to prove that this diary is capable of what I have said. But _I_ will not be the one writing in it."

"Albus?" Minerva asked, startled.

"I'm afraid that since Tom was once my student, he would recognize my handwriting and I don't know very much about children anymore," Albus admitted. "That was why I was hoping that Severus would write in it instead."

"Me?" Was it his imagination or was Severus looking paler than usual? "Headmaster-"

"I trust you, Severus," Albus interrupted. "And you are the only man for the job."

Looking like he had just tasted something bitter, Severus swallowed whatever protestations he had been about to make and nodded. "Very well. What would you like me to say?"

Albus handed the book off to him. "Whoever this was may have mentioned that Professor Snape taught at Hogwarts so take the identity of another student. Make them up if you so choose because if you choose a student that Tom knows about and do not act like they should then he would be suspicious."

"I think Severus should make up a student," Minerva informed them. "Any student we pick, save perhaps Harry Potter himself, runs the risk of being the student who possessed the diary."

Albus met Severus' eye and knew that their thoughts were running along the same tracks.

"You can't mean…_Harry_?" Minerva couldn't believe it.

"He's the only student we can be reasonably certain of," Albus explained. "And if Tom has heard anything about why Harry is famous, which likely would have come up at some point especially given recent events, then Tom would be very _very_ interested to meet Harry. It would be irresponsible to risk Harry himself speaking with Tom but if Severus is willing…"

"Try to keep Harry's 'arrogance and attention-seeking tendencies' to a minimum," Minerva suggested, glancing over at Severus. "Most of the students do not see him that way and those who do are usually jealous, such as Zacharias Smith. Although what's to be jealous of about having your parents murdered when you were one and having You-Know-Who try to kill you is beyond me."

Severus bristled at the – possibly unintentional – implication that the only reason one might have to view Harry as he did would be jealousy. It wasn't true, of course. There was always a refusal to get over James Potter's character flaws.

"They likely do not think about the realities of Harry's life," Albus reasoned.

Annoyed, Severus reached for a quill and began to write. "'April 19th, 1992. My name is Harry Potter.' The ink is vanishing."

Nothing happened for a moment and then words appeared on the page.

" 'Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my Diary?'" Severus read.

"Tell him that someone threw it in the fireplace and you noticed it wasn't burning," Albus suggested.

" 'It was in the fireplace but it wasn't burning,'" Severus said as he wrote. " 'Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink and thought to put some flame-resistant charms on it. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.' Such as, I suppose, those of us who don't wish to see Muggleborns murdered by a basilisk."

"The basilisk isn't very efficient, is it?" Minerva asked thoughtfully. "All these attacks and only one true victim. I wouldn't dream of complaining, of course, but it is curious."

"It's a good thing we managed to stop it when we did," Albus said grimly. "That kind of luck simply could not have held."

* * *

Tom had refused to admit to being Voldemort though he clearly was aware of his future and had tried to win 'Harry' over by showing him the memory of Hagrid being arrested. Severus had been greatly disturbed by the diary's power to suck him into a memory and Albus had his answer. This was a Horcrux. Where it had come from or who had it remained a mystery but one thing remained clear: had that been Voldemort's _only_ Horcrux then it never would have been so casually discarded. The keeper of the diary couldn't have known what it was or he never would have thrown it away, perhaps believing (and how could he believe if he knew?) that Voldemort really was dead. Voldemort was paranoid enough to keep the secret to his immortality quiet but also careful enough not to go handing out valuable pieces to his soul to those who would not appreciate them if everything was riding on one piece.

He would say that the fact that Voldemort was still among the living – sort of – was proof that there were more Horcruxes but Harry's probable if accidental Horcrux kept the destroyed diary from meaning anything. How fitting, indeed, for that evil thing to have been destroyed by the venom of the very creature it used to carry out its bidding.

After several months, Quirrell and Voldemort had finally managed to be separated. There had never been a risk of killing Voldemort (they would have taken it if there was) but as Quirrell was considered to be Voldemort's victim – however willingly – they wanted to spare him if they could.

And now Quirrell was sitting in front of him, his stutter and large purple turban gone and he looked very much like a man whose plans had come crashing down around him and didn't quite know what to do with himself. He had managed to piece together enough of what had happened in the past few months even if he didn't remember it himself and he wasn't happy about it.

Dumbledore had given this matter a lot of thought himself because there were no easy answers. He wanted to help this man and knew that revealing him to have ever supported Voldemort would destroy him. Just the same, he couldn't trust him and so couldn't just sweep the whole thing under the carpet. Voldemort was 'dead' but who knew what he would do now? Quirrell had even been convinced that once Voldemort had been removed from his body that the pitiful creature had died even if everyone else had been told that he died back in January.

Quirrell evidently thought that he was trying to make him uncomfortable by letting the silence drag on this long as he started fidgeting. Eventually, he asked, "What happens now?"

"You chose the wrong path," Albus said vaguely, still thinking.

Quirrell nodded. "That thing is dead and you're still in control. I should say that I did."

An idea struck him. "What do you want?" Albus inquired.

A small smile played on Quirrell's lips. "I want to be allowed to leave this place and face no consequence for what you say I did but that's not very likely now is it?"

"No," Albus agreed. "I do not believe that you understand the magnitude of what you did."

"And how do you propose to change that?" Quirrell demanded. "I can't remember what it is that even happened and I don't have all of the details! You're going to punish me for something that I can't even remember. But there is something that I _do _know. I wasn't tricked, you understand, I was just made to see that good and evil are artificial concepts we create to comfort ourselves and hide from the truth that there is only power and those too weak to seek it."

"An interesting hypothesis," Albus said diplomatically. "I believe I can find two rather insurmountable flaws in your theory, however, even without thinking about it."

"What?" Quirrell asked suspiciously.

"Not what," Albus corrected, "but who. The first problem is myself. You see, I would hardly call myself a perfect person but I've striven to be a good one since long before you were even born, Quirrell. And yet, since 'good' and 'evil' translate out roughly to 'those too weak to see power' and 'power', respectively, I must be quite powerless indeed. Despite the powerlessness my attempts to be a good person reveal me to possess, somehow I find myself the head of the Wizengamot, the headmaster of Hogwarts, possessor of an Order of Merlin, First Class, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. And I think you know my _enviable_ status as the only one Voldemort ever feared. How do you reconcile this?"

Quirrell looked a little shaken. "Just because there is no good and evil does not mean that even the powerful cannot hold delusions that they are."

Albus nodded. "Right, of course. That brings us to our second point of contention. Voldemort himself."

Quirrell was clearly lost. "What does that thing have to do with it?"

"He is supposed to be powerful enough to persuade you and yet look at what he's been up to since his murder of Lily and James," Albus entreated. "He may not have died but he's lost his body and spent ten years hiding! He was utterly dependent on you for _everything_ once you found him. And no matter how much you might value being treasured and trusted by one such as he, what does it say that he wouldn't have made it as far as he did without you?"

"I…" Quirrell trailed off, trying to find an explanation.

He wouldn't, of course. Voldemort was no longer living by his own creed and now he was supposed to be dead. He still wasn't quite sure of what the best course of action was but a year in Azkaban, a year in the areas not haunted by the dementors, seemed like a good starting point. He could just tell the courts that Quirrell had tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone and the man had no lingering loyalty to compel him to argue otherwise. Voldemort need not have been involved with Quirrell's attempt at all.

Review Please!


	38. The Joys of Always Winning

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Joys of Always Winning

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"Dumbledore!" Lucius Malfoy thundered as he stormed into Albus' office.

He really did have a bad habit of doing that but as long as he remained on the board of governors it was technically within his rights. He wondered briefly what had taken the man so long to get around to coming.

Albus pointedly refused to acknowledge him until he had finished filling out the paperwork he was working on. Then he calmly set his work aside and turned to face a fuming Lucius. "Yes, Lucius?"

"You nearly got my son killed!" he snapped, looking like he was very near pacing.

"Did I?" Albus asked curiously. "I don't remember this."

"You don't remember the _giant basilisk_ running around your school a couple of weeks ago?" Lucius asked incredulously. "Maybe we should seriously consider whether someone with such clear senility should be running this school."

"I don't believe having someone senile running anything would be a good idea," Albus continued, unconcerned. "But I am far from senile, Lucius, and I remember the basilisk."

"Then you know what you nearly did to Draco," Lucius said triumphantly.

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Do I? I believe that I handled that problem when I called in the Aurors."

"You never caught who was responsible for it," Lucius said, abruptly changing tactics.

"Didn't I?" Albus asked absently.

Lucius stilled. "Who was it?"

Albus held up the now-harmless little black book. "Someone gave a schoolchild a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul, Lucius, and that soul possessed them and set the basilisk on the children."

"His soul?" Lucius whispered, turning white. That confirmed that then."But…he was _dead_."

"Let us hope, for the sake of whoever was so careless and so stupid to have disposed of such a thing in such a manner, that that was the only piece of his soul left lying around or…why, I do not even wish to contemplate what might happen to the person who threw away a part of Voldemort's soul," Albus continued. "And on the matter of finding who was possessed, I was thinking of asking the students if they had seen this diary before. Maybe the possessed person wouldn't want to admit it but one of their friends might have seen it. Given Harry Potter's unfortunate connection to Voldemort, I was thinking of starting with the first year Slytherins."

Lucius was as close to panicking as Albus had ever seen him but you had to look very, very closely to even notice that something was amiss at all. Albus knew that Lucius was asking himself if he were _positive_ that Draco had never seen that book and wouldn't accidentally give himself away when unexpectedly presented with it again even if he had more sense than to admit to recognizing it.

"I don't think that's necessary," Lucius said firmly. So he couldn't be sure.

"But the culprit-" Albus began.

"Is probably a traumatized but innocent child who needs to put this behind him or her," Lucius insisted. "The board won't stand for you trying to find a scapegoat, Dumbledore."

Albus smiled pleasantly. "I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Harry wondered if maybe he should be more excited. Slytherin had won the House Cup for the…Actually, he didn't even know how many times. And the Quidditch Cup again, too. And that was great and he was celebrating and the rest of Hogwarts just looked annoyed which only made it better but…_still_.

Everyone always knew that, barring one of them screwing up terribly or someone from one the other houses managing to take down a suddenly-back Voldemort without the aid of a Slytherin, Slytherin was going to win. It was just a _fact_. And so while it was very nice it certainly didn't feel like something to get all excited about. And this wasn't even the year that would cause them to break the record or anything.

Zacharias vowed vengeance and next year but Harry really didn't care.

Theodore was staring at Dumbledore suspiciously.

No one seemed inclined to ask but Harry was actually rather curious and so he sighed. "Tell us, Theodore, why do you keep staring at Dumbledore?"

"I'm not staring," Theodore denied, not taking his eyes off of Dumbledore.

"Is there something Dumbledore-related you might wish to discuss?" Harry tried again.

Theodore blinked and finally turned back to them. "By strange coincidence, yes there is."

"And that would be?" Harry prompted. He was almost there!

"I just don't trust him not to turn around at the last minute and give Gryffindor the Cup," Theodore explained.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Get real, Theodore. He wouldn't just do that after he already awarded it to us. He'd have given Gryffindor points last night or this morning or something."

"That wouldn't be dramatic enough," Theodore argued. "Picture this, we're celebrating and everyone else is annoyed because we won again. Then, suddenly, right after he congratulates us he tell us that there are a few last-minute points to award. Everyone stops breathing, the other three houses from hope and us because we can't believe that this is really happening and all of our downright _Hufflepuffian_ hard work is going to go down the drain."

Pansy laughs. "_Hufflepuffian_?"

Theodore nods. "Yes, Hufflepuffian. And then he gives Gryffindor all these points so they're just tied with us and the people who can add in their head wish that they had been given just _one more point_ and everyone else tries to make sense of it. They all suspect what's going on, though, because you don't just give out lots of last-minute points at the goodbye feast unless it's going to change something. You don't give out last-minute points at the goodbye feast _period_. And then Dumbledore picks the most useless and barely involved person in the whole thing and gives them a few token points so that he can say that _he_ won Gryffindor the house cup."

"That never would have happened," Daphne said, shaking her head.

"Only because taking down the dark lord happened in January," Theodore argued. "And even then, if Harry had been a Gryffindor – or even a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw – then I bet he'd get five hundred points or something right now for helping get rid of the basilisk."

"I didn't actually get any points for the basilisk, come to think of it," Harry mused.

"The Weasley twins did," Blaise informed them.

"See!" Theodore cried excitedly, completely indifferent to all of the stares that he was getting. "See!"

"Fred and George helped identify the basilisk and find where it was located," Harry pointed out. "All I did was open the entrance."

"So?" Daphne demanded. "You still helped out just as much as they did. And we might have found out about the basilisk and the sink some other way but you were always going to be the only one who could get in there and stop the basilisk. It's a thousand-year-old snake so we couldn't very well wait for it to die of old age. What were we supposed to do? Move?"

"I wouldn't want to go to Durmstrang," Draco said randomly. "Too cold and too easy to get pushed off a glacier."

"Okay…" Pansy said, looking at him strangely.

"And the attacks would have stopped soon enough anyway," Harry pointed out. "Once Draco gave us the book and we took it to Dumbledore."

"That makes it sound so much more dignified and responsible than just throwing it on his chair and running away," Blaise said, laughing.

"Well, to be fair we _did_ watch from the hallway to make sure that no one took it before Dumbledore came and _then_ running away," Harry pointed out.

"Ah, my mistake, that was perfectly responsible then," Blaise said dryly, rolling his eyes.

"If anything, I'm the _real_ hero here," Draco said arrogantly.

Pansy just laughed at him. "Right. You and your possessed self that started all of this in the first place."

"I'm not a Gryffindor; it took me awhile to get the whole 'hero' thing down," Draco explained.

"Shall we tell Dumbledore that and see if we can score some more points?" Theodore asked innocently.

Draco shook his head. "Nah, we're winning by enough. Any more and it would be embarrassing."

"See, that's probably another reason," Harry said. "Gryffindor needed the points and we didn't."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Please, Harry, no one _needs_ points and if there weren't such epic rivalries-"

Harry groaned and studiously didn't look at Zacharias at that.

"-then no one would actually care since it's clearly just the teachers trying to make us behave," Daphne continued.

"But it won't happen," Theodore said, trying to convince himself.

"It won't happen," Pansy insisted.

"Do any of you guys know a Peter?" Blaise asked them. "I got a letter this morning saying that he died so, if you do, sorry. Unless you didn't like him in which case, public sorry and private congratulations."

"Peter was your stepfather," Tracy informed them.

Draco looked suspiciously at her. "How much of our conversation were you listening to?"

"I don't actually care about your conversation, Draco, I just sensed that Blaise was having trouble keeping track of his various stepfathers again," Tracy claimed.

"Is it that time of year already?" Blaise asked with an air of profound indifference.

"There is _no way_ that your stepfathers meet you before the wedding," Pansy declared.

Blaise just shrugged. "They don't always meet me afterwards."

* * *

Harry was helping Gilderoy pack up his office when Hermione, Neville, and Ron came in.

"Greetings," Gilderoy said brightly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"We just finished reading our advanced copy of your book," Ron explained.

From that way that Hermione was looking at him, by 'we' he clearly meant 'he' since Hermione and likely Neville (from the way he was not being glared at) had already finished it but had to wait until the last minute because Ron was still working on it.

"Oh?" Gilderoy asked, sounding quite modest indeed. It had taken him a very long time to get modesty down but he was rather proud of the final results. "What did you think?"

"I, for one, appreciate how you managed to make what Hermione _still_ calls my 'moment of pyromania' into a sensible and heroic approach," Neville told him.

"I still don't know what that word means," Ron admitted.

"It means I really like fire," Neville replied.

Hermione smiled shyly. "Was it really that brilliant when I solved the potions? Reading about it in your book was just…you're an amazing writer."

"Thank you, Hermione," Gilderoy said, smiling back at her. "That potion was meant to stump people so, even if it was honest instead of just all poison or something, the fact that you managed to solve it so quickly when you're only eleven is truly remarkable."

"You would have been able to solve it if I couldn't though, couldn't you professor?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"I would certainly like to think so," Gilderoy agreed. "But I didn't look at that poem until after you solved it so I suppose we'll never know."

"_My_ favorite part was the chess match and how you wrote that I was holding everybody's lives in their hands," Ron announced. "It was certainly the most freaked out that I've ever been in my whole life. And you make it all sound so wonderful and…and _Gryffindor_."

Neville smirked at Harry, who was quickly paling. Hopefully not _too _Gryffindor.

"I just wrote about what I saw and experienced," Gilderoy told them. Well, after a heavy dose of spicing up to make it more appealing to his readers than what had actually happened. It had been pretty easy, actually, but everyone wanted a dramatic tale of near-misses so that the final victory would feel _earned_.

"I really enjoyed your in-depth analysis of what we were doing and why," Hermione gushed. "Even though we often took a non-conventional approach to the traps, your explanation made me feel like we really did the only thing that we _could_ have done in the situation."

"At least if we were using our heads," Harry said agreeably.

"Thankfully, we were," Gilderoy said, not even wanting to _think_ about what would have happened if Harry hadn't gotten him.

"I was a little curious about the troll fight scene," Neville said, flipping through the book and turning to the pages in question. "I mean, I read it very carefully and technically everything in here _did_ happen but…it's seven pages long and you don't actually mention the fact that the troll was already unconscious and Ron was just trying to be heroic."

"He was being heroic," Harry said, rushing to Ron's defense. "If that had woken up when you guys were going back…"

Gilderoy had been well aware of what was and was not in his book and the impression that it gave out. He would have gone the far easier way and just completely scrapped what happened and wrote the most thrilling fight scene that he could except that there were three witnesses who didn't know the truth and so would have objected or started wondering what else he had made up. But on the other hand, he couldn't just leave out one of the obstacles and nobody wanted to read about Ron bravely killing a helpless and unconscious troll. It was a compromise, really.

Gilderoy frowned. "Really? Let me see." He took Neville's copy and made a show of skimming it.

"Not once," Hermione confirmed.

"I like it," Ron remarked.

Harry laughed. "You _would_."

"I guess you're right, Neville," Gilderoy said, shaking his head. "I can't believe…I _swore_ that I had that in there. Maybe in an earlier draft? I can take it out, of course."

"No, you can't!" Ron cried out.

"But it's really not fair to the spirit of accuracy," Gilderoy protested. "People might actually think that you're capable of taking down a full-grown and completely aware mountain troll by yourself."

"Neville!" Ron said pleadingly.

Neville was weakening. He had probably had to hear all about Ron's probable inferiority complex over the past year and this would be a good way of lessening the amount of times that he'd have to hear about it next year. "Oh, alright. It _is_ technically true, after all."

"Thank you, Neville!" Ron exclaimed, looking like he might hug the other boy (who quickly took two steps back). "How about it Harry? Hermione?"

Harry shrugged. "Oh, I don't care."

"I suppose…" Hermione agreed reluctantly.

Eyes shining, Ron turned back to Gilderoy. "How about it, Professor?"

"I suppose I can let it stay," Gilderoy conceded.

The three stayed for a few more minutes and then departed, leaving Gilderoy alone with his adopted son.

"This was the most ridiculous year ever," Harry declared, shaking his head. "Or at least these last few months. I don't even want to _know_ what the next six years will be like."

"Probably much calmer without You-Know-Who or that basilisk running around," Gilderoy predicted. "But if not, well, at least I won't be here to have to deal with it."

"Ah, right, the 'curse'," Harry said using air quotes.

"It is a perfectly valid curse that has gotten rid of _dozens _of professors," Gilderoy insisted.

"You seem to be fine," Harry pointed out. "Are you saying that you beat the curse?"

Gilderoy shrugged. "Maybe I outsmarted it or maybe it's just that I decided to comply with it and so it had no reason to punish me or to try to force me out."

Harry looked sad. "I'm going to miss you."

Gilderoy laughed. "_Miss_ me? We haven't even left Hogwarts yet and we've got a whole summer before you're coming back here! That's plenty of time." He'd miss Harry, too, of course, but there would be time enough for that later.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked him.

"Probably the same things I've always done," Gilderoy replied. "Work on staying famous and beloved and find new creatures to…write about."

"It should be easier to stay famous now that you and I co-killed You-Know-Who," Harry remarked. "I think that's the section I like the best and no one who knows the truth wants the truth getting out there so they'll accept it."

"On the other hand, I think we both will have the problem of nothing we ever do from now on _ever_ being able to top what we've already done," Gilderoy mused. "It's just like with Dumbledore. He defeated Grindelwald in 1945 and what's he done since then? Acquired a couple of positions, worked on dragon's blood, who really cares? His crowning achievement is Grindelwald."

"You're probably right," Harry admitted. "Although, really, if you must have problems then they might as well be those kinds."

"I think you're aiming too low, Harry," Gilderoy told him, holding a hand out in a 'picture it' gesture. "Imagine…a world where we simply don't _have_ problems."

Harry laughed. "One day," he agreed.

Of course, Harry was right. They were practically there already. Even if he had never wanted it and only accidentally done it when there was literally no other choice, he was a genuine hero now and he knew for sure that his son would always be proud of him for that, whatever he came to think about the rest. He was more famous than he had ever dreamed and he'd only get _more_ famous as time went on and Harry came into his own. He had managed to fool the great Dumbledore for almost a year and if he could do that then he could fool _anyone_.He was even the only wizard to walk away from this job since the 1940s!

Not bad for a wizard who could really only cast an Obliviate.

Not bad for _any_ wizard, really.

But then, Gilderoy Lockhart had never aimed to be just _any_ wizard .

It's the End so Review Please!


End file.
